


31 Ways to Say I Love You

by toziuers



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, inktober but for writing!, tags for each prompt in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 19,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toziuers/pseuds/toziuers
Summary: 31 days with reddie!





	1. ring

**Author's Note:**

> in which i, writer, do all the inktober prompts because i want to be apart of the fun but turn them into reddie drabbles? yes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: piercings, richie gets pierced and eddie complains, bev is there for emotional support and love, SEPTUM RICHIE

“You're doing _ what? _” Eddie hisses over the line, like he can’t believe what he's hearing. 

“Getting my septum pierced!” Richie says excitedly, walking down the street towards the piercing shop. “You should come! Bev’s here!”

“What the _ fuck, _ Tozier? No! No I won't come!” Eddie practically yells, Bev laughing from next to Richie where she can hear him over the line. “You turn 18 and now you're losing your fucking _ mind. _”

“No, I’m not,” Richie argues, still smiling. “Gonna get a nice little nose ring and rub it all in your face when I look _ hot_. You’ll regret not dating me in 7th grade!”

Eddie groans, long and suffering, mumbling out a “_I’ll be there in 15”. _Richie smiles triumphantly, pumping a fist in the air even though Eddie can’t see. Bev laughs again, and shakes her head like Richie’s ridiculous (which he is- he totally is, and he knows it). 

Richie and Bev wait outside the shop until Eddie shows up, looking like -for all intents and purposes- he's about to enter a haunted house and not just a piercing shop. 

“Ready, Eds?” Richie asks, smile growing the longer he stares at Eddie. 

“Well _I’m _not getting anything, idiot, I’m just here to hold your hand when you cry,” Eddie says defiantly, like he doesn't know he’s gonna be the one making noises of pain in Richie’s stead. 

“That's what Bev’s for, my love,” Richie informs, looping an arm around Bev’s shoulder in the process. She pats his cheek lovingly, and Richie smiles. “You are here so I can have something pretty to stare at as I’m getting attacked by a needle.”

Eddie makes a face, like he's exasperated (which, honestly, he always is around Richie), but opens the door to the shop anyway and ushers Richie in like he wouldn't go on his own. It's funny, how defiant and determined Eddie can get when he thinks Richie is challenging him. 

They get through the pleasantries and the payment before Richie starts to get nervous. He sits on the couch, waiting for the piercer to call him over, legs bouncing and hands fidgeting in his lap. 

“You alright, Rich?” Bev asks softly, reaching out to grab one of Richie’s fidgeting hands. 

“Totally fine,” Richie lies, giving Bev his signature bullshit smile. She gives him a look, one that reads _ I know you're lying but I won't push_, and just settles for holding his hand. Eddie’s looking around the place like he’s a health inspector, and at least _ that _can make Richie laugh. 

He gets called over a few minutes later, taking his seat in the chair, and letting out a slow breath. The piercer gives him a smile, one that's _ actually _reassuring, and asks him if he’s ever been pierced before. 

“When I was 13, my friend found a needle and we thought it was a great idea to shove it through my ear lobe?” he offers up, frowning in apology when all she does is cringe. 

“Well, there's gonna be pressure and a pinch, but once the needle is through it won't hurt too much anymore,” she assures, like she can tell Richie is nervous as _ fuck. _ She does this all day, Richie realizes, _ of course _ she knows he’s nervous. 

It doesn't take much longer for her to get ready, and before Richie knows it she’s telling him to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eddie’s being surprisingly quiet off to the side, and Richie wonders if he’s even watching. 

The piercer was right, and it _ does _ feel more like a pinch than anything. It feels uncomfortable, especially when she puts the jewelry in, but overall it wasn't _ awful. _ He didn't even _ need _ to hold Bev’s hand. 

“You can look at it in the mirror,” the piercer tells him, so he gets up and walks over. 

Richie would be lying if he said it didn't look _ good. _He laughs, a surprised little thing, and smiles widely. “Thanks so much,” he tells the piercer sincerely, and turns to Bev and Eddie with his arms out wide. “Whatcha think?”

“Oh fuck, that looks amazing,” Bev says, moving closer so she can see better. “Like really, Richie, it looks so good.”

Eddie is still quiet, just staring at Richie like he doesn't know what to say. Richie cocks his head to the side in question, letting out an _ “Eds?” _. 

“No, yeah it looks great,” Eddie echoes, but it doesn't sound like he _ means _it. Richie deflates, just a little, but tries not to make it noticeable. 

They leave the shop, and Bev begs off with a promise to see them some other day soon. Richie’s nose is starting to hurt, stinging sensation taking over, but it's not so bad it’s unbearable. 

“So you hate it,” Richie says simply, walking next to Eddie with his hands in his pockets. 

“What? No I don't,” Eddie responds, looking up at Richie like he doesn't know where the boy got that idea. “Why would I hate it?”

“Well you just- you didn't seem to _ like _it either,” Richie explains, shrugging. “It's okay if you don't like it, I won't be offended, dude,” he says. 

“No, no,” Eddie argues, stopping to stand in front of Richie so he can't walk anymore. “No, I like it so much I don't know what to _ do, _idiot,” he confesses.

This leaves Richie gaping, rightfully so. He had convinced himself Eddie _ hated _it, but was just being nice so Richie wouldn't feel bad, or whatever else his mind could think up. 

“Oh,” is all Richie manages, feeling a blush form over his cheeks and up into his ears. 

“Yeah, _ oh _ ,” Eddie responds, huffing like he’s _ annoyed _Richie forced him to say his secret (which he didn't, even. Richie didn't force him to say anything). “Idiot,” Eddie mumbles again, continuing down the road and not checking to see if Richie follows (he does, he always does). 

“Does this mean you’ll date me _now? _” Richie asks cheekily, bumping shoulders with Eddie. 

“We’ll see,” Eddie responds, and Richie can see the blush forming on his face now, too. 

  
Richie smiles wider than he has in a while, and ends up hissing when it pulls on his piercing. _ Whatever_, he thinks._Totally worth it. _


	2. mindless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: alcohol (richie is of legal age), getting drunk, some sadness in the form of loneliness, eddie saves the day!

It's not that Richie makes it a habit to get mindlessly drunk often. He _ doesn't, _because he knows what his parents are like, what he could be like, what could go wrong. 

Richie doesn't get mindlessly drunk often, but tonight he definitely _ needs _to. 

He doesn't want to think about why, doesn't want to think about the stress and the failed exams and the bare bones social life that is uncharacteristic and _ weird. _

He doesn't want to think about how he’s barely seen Bill, his roommate and longest best friend (besides Eddie and Stan, of course), these past few weeks, the other boy out and about living his college life like he _ should. _

Moral is, Richie is stressed and lonely, so he does the only thing he can thing to do: he goes to a college party, and gets mindlessly drunk. 

He doesn't realize he’s gone and called Eddie until he picks up, voice bleary (and _ oh, _ right, its nearly 1am. Of course he’d be sleeping), managing a _ hello? _ in his half awake state. 

“Richie? You alright?” Eddie asks when Richie doesn't respond right away. 

“Little drunk,” Richie says, feeling less so than he was a few minutes ago now that he's having a solid conversation. It's weird, how that works, Richie thinks. “I don't feel great,” he adds, because he really doesn't. “I miss you,” he adds again, because he _ really does. _

“Don't feel great how, Richie?” Eddie questions, and Richie can hear the concern in his voice. _ Typical Eddie_, Richie thinks, and it makes him giggle. “Do you want me to come get you?” he asks after a beat, sounding hesitant. 

“Yes,” Richie breathes out, not caring about anything. About being selfish, about inconveniencing anyone, about _ anything. _ He knows Eddie is a half hour away and it's nearly 1. He knows this, but he _ can't _ care. “Please,” he adds on, just to be polite. He hasn't forgotten his manners, thank you very much. 

There's shuffling on the other end of the line, a soft sound from what can only be a yawn, and the ruffle of fabric, like Eddie’s pulling on a jacket. Eddie asks where Richie is, and Richie tells him, right down to what the house looks like. He feels a little like a little kid, but it's okay, because _ Eddie’s coming. _

He zones out somewhere in between hanging up and when Eddie comes, his only thought being _ don't move or Eddie won’t find you_. It feels like it's only a handful of minutes before there's a shadow looming above him, and he looks up to find Eddie’s smiling face. Eddie offers a hand to help him up, and Richie takes it, even though he can get up himself. 

“I wanna go home,” Richie says softly, not letting go of Eddie’s hand. He can't be bothered to, not with how nicely it fits in Richie’s hand. 

“Alright, Rich,” Eddie responds, starting to walk to his car. Richie follows, because he’d follow Eddie to the end of the world if he just asked. Richie tells him so, and gets to watch as the tips of Eddie’s ears turn red. “Alright,” Eddie repeats, opening the passenger side door for Richie. 

Richie gets in, and it's quiet after that. Quiet in the actual sense, and quiet in his mind. He didn't realize how _ lonely _ he was until Eddie actually showed up. He frowns, thinking he should really ask Bill to hangout more (even though they _ live _ together and he shouldn’t _ have _ to). 

He vaguely registers getting to his room and laying down, not really knowing if Eddie followed or not. He only realizes Eddie _ did _in fact follow when the bed dips next to him, Eddie sitting on the edge. 

“Thanks Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says softly, eyes closed. He reaches around blindly for Eddie’s hand, and smiles when he finds it. Maybe Eddie put it in his path, or maybe he’s just _ that good, _but either way, he squeezes Eddie’s hand gratefully. 

“You know you don't have to thank me, Chee,” Eddie says, old nickname digging itself up in the late night. “I’d fly across the country if you needed me,” he adds, vulnerability evident in that statement. Richie doesn't know how to handle that, especially not right now when he’s still half drunk (even if he did say something similar not even a half hour ago). 

Richie hums, rolling onto his side so his stomach is pressed up against Eddie’s side, and sighs softly. “You're too good to me,” he says honestly, candidly. Something about the late night always did make Richie more open. 

“Hm. Maybe,” Eddie agrees, reaching up to brush through Richie's hair, smiling when he almost purrs with it. _ Like a big cat, _Eddie thinks. “Doesn't mean you don't deserve it, though.”

“Guess so,” Richie says, smile forming on his face again. “Can you stay?” he asks, thinking _ fuck it _, because sober Richie would never ask, not if he really needed Eddie like he does now. 

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, adding on a soft _ scooch over _ so he can get comfortable next to Richie. It feels so much like the old days, back when they were 10 and small enough to fit in the same bed, back when they would hang out every waking moment. 

Richie misses it, of course he does, but he figures this is good too. Seeing Eddie whenever he can (between work and school), being able to call Eddie whenever he needs help, even if he _ is _a half hour away. 

  
As he falls asleep to Eddie petting through his hair, all he thinks about is how much he loves Eddie, and wouldn’t trade him for the world. They can talk about everything that happened tonight, _ tomorrow. _ Everything would be fine (at least he’ll still have Eddie).


	3. bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie gets beat up, but eddie's there to patch him up!, stan thinks richie's an idiot (he is)

“Richie, c’mon, don’t bait him,” Stan says, letting out a sigh when Richie doesn’t stop his taunting. “He’s gonna fucking kick your ass after school now, idiot.”

“So let him,” Richie says, not looking at Stan, continuing his staredown with Bowers outside of the classroom. It’s not like they’re learning anything important, anyway (and anything he misses he can just ask Stan about). He pulls another face at Bowers and smiles when it seems to rile the boy up more. “Not like I care,” he says. 

“Idiot,” Stan mumbles, going back to his work.

It’s later, after school, when Richie maybe regrets taunting Bowers so hard. 

It’s after the third punch that Richie _ really _ regrets it.

Bowers eventually gets bored, leaving Richie gasping for air on the ground. He should be used to this, after all these years, but somehow each time is worse than the next. He never really _ does _ remember what a punch feels like until he gets punched again. 

He lays in the grass until a shadow looms over him, and he closes his eyes. He knows who it’s going to be, and he’s not excited to deal with them.

“Stan told me you deserved this one,” the voice says, and Richie sighs. He wipes blood from under his nose, and sits up.

“Probably,” Richie responds, looking up to Eddie and giving him a weak smile. Eddie stares at him blankly, unimpressed. “I did get a solid punch in first, this time, though,” he adds, like he thinks Eddie will be proud of him or something (he is, Richie can tell by the flash of emotion in his eyes, but Eddie will never admit it to his face).

“C’mon,” Eddie says, offering his hand out to help Richie up. Richie stands up, letting out a groan when his ribs protest from how sore they are. “Lets go fix you up.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Richie responds, picking up his backpack from where it was thrown across the lawn, and following Eddie to his house. His mom won’t be home, which is the only reason why they’re going _ there _ instead of anywhere else. 

It doesn’t take them long to get to Eddie’s, and before Richie knows it he’s toeing off his shoes and following Eddie to the bathroom like always. There’s a calmness, a _ familiarity _ to the routine, and Richie doesn’t mind it (even if he does have to get hurt for it to happen). He chances a glance in the mirror, and cringes when he sees the state of his face. 

“He got you good, Rich,” Eddie says, not even bothering to try and make Richie feel better. Richie knows it’s his fault, anyway, so there’d be no use if Eddie tried. “Sit,” he commands, pushing Richie to sit on the sink counter. 

  
“Gonna fix me up real good, baby?” Richie asks, taking a seat on the counter and smiling when Eddie rolls his eyes, starting to take out the contents of the first aid kit (one of the many he has around the house. It makes Richie laugh every time). 

Eddie doesn’t deem him with a response, just goes to start cleaning the various cuts and make sure nothing was _ seriously _ wrong with Richie. As far as Richie’s concerned, as long as he could still breathe, he was fine. Eddie never saw it that way.

Eddie swipes a damp cotton round over the cuts on Richie’s cheeks, rolling his eyes when Richie hisses in discomfort. “Don’t get beat up if you’re just going to complain about it later,” Eddie says, folding up one cotton round and replacing it with another. He cleans under Richie’s nose and _ tsks _ when Richie tries to move away because of how uncomfortable it is. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not like I asked to be the target of assholes,” Richie says, a little more snappy than he means to be with Eddie. He apologizes quickly, and Eddie nods in acceptance.   


“I just hate when you taunt them,” Eddie confesses, frowning as he lifts up Richie’s shirt and cleans the cuts on his side. “They’d probably still fuck with you but not as hard if you didn’t fuck with _ them _,” Eddie says honestly, and Richie sighs. He knows Eddie is right. 

“I know,” he echoes from the thoughts in his head, pulling down his shirt when Eddie prompts him to. “They’re just so- _ fucking annoying, _” Richie practically whines, feeling a little like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. 

Eddie sighs, packing up the first aid kit when he’s sure Richie has no more cuts to clean, and goes back to standing in between Richie’s legs. He places his hands on either side of Richie’s thighs, and sighs again. “Just- please. For my sanity, stop taunting them. Stop _ baiting _ them to hurt you,” Eddie says, resting his forehead on Richie’s collarbone. “Don’t like seeing you hurt, Rich,” he says softly, candidly.

“I know,” Richie replies, just as soft, hand coming up to pet the back of Eddie’s head. “I’ll stop, promise,” he agrees, and he finds he actually means it, if it means he won’t have to see Eddie this distraught again.

Eddie untucks himself from Richie’s chest and leans up, placing a gentle kiss on the cheek that doesn’t have a cut on it. Richie smiles, even if it hurts a little, because Eddie never failed to make him feel _ loved _. 

“Sap,” Richie says anyway, hoping a joke will ease the furious pounding of his heart. 

“Shut up, idiot,” Eddie responds immediately, and the moment around them breaks just as easily as it was created. “Now get off my counter,” he says, swatting at Richie’s leg. 

Richie hops down, planting a hard kiss on Eddie’s forehead, matching sound effect and all, smiling when Eddie swats him again. At least if he got beat up again (which he inevitably will), he’ll always have a nurse to patch him back up. 


	4. freeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: reddie fight because they're dramatic, love confessions, eddie is... a lot to handle and we love him, kisses!!!, also reddie r in mathletes... yes

If you had asked Richie Tozier five minutes ago how he’d managed to get himself into this situation, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. How he had a screaming Eddie all in his personal space in his own basement, finger pointed directly into his face, well. He just doesn’t _ know. _

“You’re such a _ dick_, you know that?” Eddie practically yells, moving his finger down so he can jab Richie’s chest. “You don’t think about anyone but _ yourself_.”

“What the fuck are you even _ saying _ right now, Eddie? Do you fucking _ hear _ yourself?” Richie asks genuinely, feeling anger spike. “Why are you so fucking mad? All I did was quit mathletes like any sane fucking person would when they’re taking _ three AP classes_.”

“_Fuck you,_” Eddie says, leaving all logic behind just to be _ angry_. “I joined _ because _ of you! Now you’re not even there and I _ suck at math! _” he yells, face red. Richie has a momentary thought that he should grab Eddie’s inhaler, just in case.

“Just tell me why you’re really mad and stop using mathletes as an excuse!” Richie yells back, poking Eddie’s chest this time. Eddie swats away Richie’s hand with lightning speed, and makes an angry noise.

  
“Because I’m in love with you, idiot!” Eddie says, anger reaching its peak. 

Everything around them_ freezes_, feeling like all the air has been sucked out of the space between them. Eddie pauses, finger still poised in the air, staring at Richie blankly like his brain just processed what he said. Richie might gasp, or he might just make a noise like he’s dying, but either way it breaks the tension.

“Oh my fucking god,” Eddie whispers, lowering his hand and backing up slowly. “Oh, holy shit I fucked up,” he says, more to himself than Richie.

“What did you say?” Richie asks, maybe a beat too late for where the situation is headed now. 

“You know what I said!” Eddie almost yells, reeling it back when the first syllable comes out a little too loud. He looks like he’s seconds away from a panic attack.

“I know but- but _ what? _ ” Richie asks, blinking dumbly in Eddie’s direction. He feels a little like right after he wakes up and hasn’t put his glasses on yet, world blurry as all hell. This doesn’t make _ sense. _ “You’re in love with- _ me? _”

Eddie makes a noise, one of embarrassment, and throws his hands up in the air like he’s exasperated. Maybe it’s at himself for saying anything, or at Richie who can’t seem to comprehend anything at the moment. Richie still feels like he doesn’t have his glasses on.

“Yes, holy shit, Captain _ Oblivious _ ,” Eddie says, and yeah, the exasperation is definitely aimed at Richie. “Only since I was fucking- _ fourteen_,” he says, seemingly over his embarrassment and humiliation just so he can insult Richie. 

“Yeah but- me,” Richie says once more, blinking hard and reopening his eyes to see an Eddie who looks like he’s about to start yelling again. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be dense. I just don’t get _ why _ me of all people.”

“If you’re looking for me to wax poetic about how amazing and special you are, I am _ not _ gonna do it,” Eddie informs him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. It looks more like a defense mechanism than an anger stance, and Richie can see the insecurity seeping back in.

“Okay, well, I’m in love with you too,” Richie says simply, easily, even though his heart is beating a mile a minute. He knows logically Eddie just said the same thing, but his heart seems to think he’s about to be rejected. 

And the thing about Eddie, unlike Richie, is that you can see every emotion on his face clear as day. When he’s happy, you know. When he’s sad, you know. When he’s pissed, _ you definitely know. _

But the problem now is, Eddie isn’t showing _ any _ emotion. Richie feels a laugh bubble up in his throat, byproduct of anxiety. 

“A_llright _,” Richie says, letting the laugh out awkwardly. He’d rather melt into the floor than deal with this right now. “So it really wasn’t mathletes,” he tries to joke, and cringes when Eddie glares. 

“You can’t just say you’re in love with me after I say it,” Eddie says, in the most fucked logic Richie has ever heard. 

“What the _ fuck? _ That’s exactly what you’re _ supposed _ to do! I did something right for once, asshole!” Richie responds, feeling himself get confused all over again.

“Sure, but what if you only said that because _ I _ said it, and then I learn months from now when the relationship has gone stale that you never loved me in the _ first place, _ ” Eddie says, hands waving a mile a minute trying to explain his point. Richie doesn’t follow. It honestly just feels like Eddie is in a fighting mood today, and Richie is tired (but _ God, _ he loves him).

“Do I need to call Bev? Be honest, do I need to call fucking Beverly Marsh to explain to you that I’m _ actually in love with you? _” 

“_Beverly knows? _” Eddie asks incredulously, stopping all movement to stare at Richie.

“Of course she knows! She’s my best fucking friend next to you, who I _ obviously _ couldn’t tell!” Richie says (he mentally laughs at the idea that now it’s _ his _ turn to be exasperated).

“Okay, so you mean it, is what you’re saying,” Eddie says slowly, like he’s trying to process it himself. 

Richie groans, long and loud into the space between them. He doesn’t deem Eddie with a response, just moves closer so there’s not nearly as much space in between them anymore. Richie takes a minute to take Eddie in, how Richie has a good few inches on him now compared to when they were younger, how Eddie’s cheeks are flushed from all the yelling, the spattering of freckles on his nose.

“Fair warning, I’m gonna kiss you, now, just so you know how much I mean it” Richie says softly, waiting until Eddie nods (a little mechanically) to put his hands on him. Richie cups his cheek gently, more gently than he’s done anything in his life, and starts to lean in.

He’s abruptly stopped by a hand on his chest, Eddie staring up at him defiantly. Richie sighs, wondering what he’s done wrong _ now. _

“Rejoin mathletes and I’ll kiss you,” he says, and Richie groans, throwing his head back. “Or I’ll have to quit and disappoint Bill even more than he already is.”

“Christ, Eddie,” Richie says, smiling and laughing despite himself. He shakes his head in disbelief. “Fine, I’ll rejoin but if I fail any of my classes because of it it’s _ your _ fault.”

“Noted,” Eddie replies, giving Richie a smile. He leans up, up, up, and plants a kiss right on Richie’s mouth. 

Richie stares in shock for a minute, before sputtering. “_I_was going to kiss _ you! _” he says, sounding affronted. 

“Too late,” Eddie says with a laugh, moving out of Richie’s grip and walking away. He laughs again when Richie catches him around the waist, bringing him back to chest with the boy. “Let _ go_!” Eddie whines, not making any move to actually get out of Richie’s grip. 

“Nope,” Richie responds, moving to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “You have to stay here forever now,” he informs.

Eddie sighs, but relaxes into Richie’s grip, causing Richie to smile widely. Richie kisses him again for good measure.

  
Sometimes fighting with Eddie _ did _ have its perks, Richie supposed.


	5. build

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie being sappy !!!, not building a literal home, but a metaphorical home..., this one's kinda messy i am sorry

The first time it happens, Richie is nine years old and on the verge of tears. 

“Stop- stop moving,” Eddie says softly, ripping open a bandaid and grabbing Richie’s leg.

“But it hurts,” Richie whines, hissing when Eddie jostles his leg too much. Eddie shushes him, moving to place the bandaid gently on his knee where there’s a scrape, product of falling off his bike. He feels calmer the longer Eddie just talks to him, and Richie wonders how Eddie’s so good at getting him to calm down. 

“There,” Eddie says, kissing his fingers and pressing it gently to Richie’s knee. “Now it won’t hurt anymore.”

Richie wants to argue, because it definitely _ still really hurts_, but the fluttering of his heart is enough to get him to shut up. He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows he’s never going to forget this day for _ some _ reason.

The second time it happens, Richie is fifteen and watching in amusement as Eddie completely, 100% _ loses his shit. _

“You know this place is still like, not up to fucking code, right?” he says, staring down at a piece of wood that fell off the ceiling. “That could’ve seriously injured me, and then I would’ve died before we even got out of the fucking _ woods _.”

“Can you chill out for once in your life?” Richie says, adding fuel to the fire just to watch Eddie keep going. He doesn’t know why he prods him, just knows he _ loves doing it. _

“Chill out? _ Chill out? _ I’ve been coming to a fucking death trap for the past two years and you tell me to _ chill out? _” Eddie says, turning on Richie now, hands moving a mile a minute to illustrate his point. 

“Yeah, Eds, chill out,” Richie says, smile forming on his face without even trying. 

“Are you making fucking _ fun _ of me?” Eddie says, moving closer to where Richie is stretched out on the hammock (he’s almost too tall for it, now, but he doesn’t care). 

“Maybe,” Richie says, smiling wider. 

“Can you guys just kiss and get it over with?” Stanley pipes up, sounding annoyed. He hasn’t even looked up from the comic he’s reading. 

“Shut up!” Eddie and Richie yell in unison, turning back to each other and smiling.

Their momentary fight is over, but Richie feels his heart fluttering all the same. He always did love watching Eddie get passionate about things, even if it was over stuff Richie thought was stupid. 

The third time it happens, Richie is eighteen and finally understands the term “building a home in your heart”.

Him and Eddie are watching a movie, and Eddie’s fallen asleep. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, because Richie knows _ he’s _ fallen asleep during multiple movies they’ve watched, but-

The only problem this time is that _ Eddie is sleeping on his shoulder. _

Richie is close to losing his fucking mind at this point. The gentle slope of Eddie’s nose looks soft in the light, eyelashes fluttering with every twitch of his muscles. Richie doesn’t know how he can find new things he likes about someone he’s known for so long, but Eddie manages to prove to him everyday that he can. 

And really, Richie isn’t stupid. He knows how he feels for Eddie isn’t platonic anymore, hasn’t been for a long, _ long _ time. He knows he’s obvious too, knows the way the others give him knowing looks when his gaze on Eddie lasts a bit longer than it should. All in all, Richie doesn’t think he can live without him.

Eddie has 100%, successfully, built a home in Richie’s heart and Richie doesn’t want him to leave.

So yeah, Richie isn’t necessarily afraid of the fact that he wants to build a future with him. When will he get around to telling Eddie? Well, that’s a problem for another day.


	6. husky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: this ones super short i am sorry ;-;, but! richie has A Morning Voice, and Eddie Reacts, thats all i wrote folks

Theoretically, Eddie knows morning voices are a _ thing. _ A thing that happens because you haven’t talked for the past however-the-fuck long, and your vocal cords need a minute to kick back into gear. It happens to Eddie, so he knows it's a _ thing. _

It's just not a thing he’s ever applied to _ Richie. _

The first time he hears Richie’s husky ass voice speaking to him in the morning, he’s disoriented and nearly screams. It's a simple _ morning, _but Eddie makes a noise he will 100% deny until the day he dies.

“What the fuck, Eds?” Richie says, voice cracking on _ fuck_. His voice is deep, deeper than it usually is, and it's throwing Eddie for a _ loop. _

“What the fuck me? No, what the fuck _ you,” _ Eddie says, sitting up and staring down at Richie, who's laying on the floor. His designated spot in their sleepovers since he hit his growth spurt years ago and couldn't fit in bed with Eddie anymore. “Your _ voice? _”

“What about it?” Richie says, and he sounds more normal than he did two minutes ago. Good. Great for Eddie’s sanity. Eddie watches as he props himself up on an elbow so he’s no longer laying fully down. 

“It's all-” Eddie mocks Richie’s deep voice and stares at him with an incredulous look. “It's never like that!”

“It's always like that in the morning?” Richie says, eyebrows furrowing like he’s genuinely confused. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”

“Because- Because?” Eddie says, voice squeaking at the end. He doesn't have a reason, per se, but more a _ feeling _ (a feeling of _ deep distress_, because Richie sounds- sounds _ hot _). 

Richie rolls his eyes in the way he does when Eddie’s being ridiculous, getting up and stretching. Eddie valiantly ignores the strip of skin that's revealed with that action. He _ swears. _“Alright, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says, giving Eddie a weird look. Eddie swears in his head. 

  
If he doesn't stop thinking about Richie’s husky morning voice for the rest of the day, zoning in and out to Richie talking to him, well. You can’t really _ blame _him.


	7. enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: witch richie !!!, richie does an oopsie when it comes to potion making, Stanley Is Exasperated and Unimpressed, eddie is just... doing his best

Really, it was meant to be a simple _ get well soon! _ potion. It _ was_, Richie swears. 

Until- _ until _ Stanley fucking scared the shit out of him and he ended up spilling half the contents of the bottle he was currently holding into the pot, a bottle that Richie only needed a _ few fucking drops of. _

“O_hhh _ fuck,” Richie says, staring down at the bubbling contents, tucking an errant curl behind his ear. “Stanley, I’m so fucked right now.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so jumpy. I thought witches had crazy good senses and shit,” Stanley says, wholly unconcerned with Richie’s dilemma. He doesn’t even look up from his book, which honestly, Richie finds a little insulting. 

“Werewolves. Not witches,” Richie mumbles under his breath, starting to pace. “What the fuck, Stan. Do you think it’ll still do the same thing?”

“Do I _ look _ like I know?” Stanley asks, finally looking up. He looks as unimpressed as his voice sounds. “You’re the one that goes to-” he waves a hand in the air, looking for the right word, “witch… school. I don’t.”

“Okay. Okay this is fine. I could just- add more of the other stuff, even it out, and bam! Get well soon potion fine and dandy for our Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says, more to himself than to Stan. He nods in resolution, and begins to add more of the ingredients to the pot. “This is gonna work fine,” he mumbles, as if to reassure himself. 

Newsflash: it does not work. 

Which is exactly how Richie ends up with an Eddie who is 1) absolutely still sick and 2) saying any and everything that comes to mind. 

“I feel like I got run over ten times and then thrown in the woods.” Great. Not too bad. 

“If Stanley asked to fuck I’d say yes.” Awful. Very bad. Stanley won't stop blushing while glaring daggers at Richie.

And-

“I’m in love with Richie.” 

Eddie seems to realize what he said a beat after he says it, and up until this point he’d been wholly _ embarrassed,_ but now he looks like he’s seen a ghost in a horror movie and he’s about to get murdered. 

Richie, who had been pacing the living room and trying to figure out a way to fix this, mumbling under his breath, pauses. Stops. Looks up and over, and stares directly at Eddie. “What?” he says, voice quiet. 

“You know what I said,” Eddie replies, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice is still nasally from being sick, and it sounds less threatening than he might mean for it to. Richie’s heart won't stop pounding. 

“And you're not lying?” Richie asks, cringing when he realizes what he said. Stanley scoffs, for some reason _ still in the room_, and Richie hisses out a _ shut up_. He shakes his head, and lets out a, “Sorry. I know you're not.”

“Obviously,” Eddie responds with a huff. “And you look really cute even though you're stressed- _ fuck_.”

Richie doesn't know how to process this, ending up blushing fiercely and ducking his head. “I mean, I would say I feel the same, but you're kinda- not able to shut up right now, so if you didn't wanna tell me. I’ll just- I’ll forget this happened. And it’ll be fine!” he says, feeling guilty for putting Eddie in this situation and possibly making him confess when he didn't mean, or want to. 

“No I- I wouldn't have said anything, ever. Like ever. Don't forget,” Eddie responds, blushing along with Richie. Stanley’s still _ just fucking sitting there_, self satisfied smirk on his face. What the _ fuck. _

“Okay. Okay, cool. I’m- I’m in love with you too? Cool,” Richie says, wishing he had his own truth potion to get the words out easier. His voice cracks at the end, and he coughs to cover it up. 

The smile Eddie gives him is beaming, like he’s genuinely _ ecstatic _to hear that, and Richie finds himself smiling too. 

“So, now that you guys are done being gross and finally confessed, any idea when this is gonna wear off, genius?” Stanley asks, stretching out further on Richie’s couch like he owns the damn thing. 

“My professor said a few hours,” Richie responds, checking his phone and reading over the email one more time. “Sorry, Spaghetti. Looks like we gotta wait a little bit longer.”

“It's fine,” Eddie says, seemingly unconcerned now that he’s said the _ big thing_. “Just don't- don't take advantage of it? Please?”

“Course not,” Richie and Stanley say in unison, and Richie finally relaxes onto the couch, pushing Stanley so he can get comfortable. Stanley makes a noise of displeasure, but settles down again, and they all turn to the TV to wait out the potion. 

Richie might've fucked up, but he can't say he really regrets it _ too _ much when the next day Eddie _ properly _asks him out, without a potion to aid him.


	8. frail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie and eddie save a baby bird!, stan the bird man gives them advice, richie is weirdly protective over the small thing

“Holy shit, it’s a baby bird,” Richie exclaims down the trail, further ahead than Eddie at this point. They were taking their time walking, but Richie always managed to walk faster than Eddie anyway. “Eds! We gotta help it!” he calls out, turning to look at Eddie.

Eddie approaches slowly, vaguely freaked out at the prospect of maybe seeing a  _ dead _ bird, but true to Richie’s word, it’s alive and flopping around miserably on the forest floor. “Do you think it fell out of the nest?” Eddie asks, crouching down so he can get a closer look. 

“Definitely,” Richie says, joining Eddie closer to the ground. “We can like, wrap it up in my jacket and go ask Stan what to do?” he proposes, sounding so  _ hopeful _ Eddie can’t say no. Eddie was  _ going _ to say they should look for the nest, but if Richie wants to play vet with a baby bird, well. Eddie will help.

“Sure,” Eddie agrees, reaching out for Richie’s jacket and handing it over. He might be feeling brave, but not brave enough to actually pick up a wild bird. He doesn’t know  _ what’s _ on it. He watches as Richie coaxes the tiny bird to hop into the fabric of his jacket, wrapping it up securely so it doesn’t try and hop away and fall out of Richie’s bike. 

They make their way out of the woods, purpose to their movements now, and head towards Stan’s house. It isn’t that far, and they arrive in no time, Eddie going to knock on the door while Richie waits by the curb. 

“We found a baby bird,” is the first thing out of Eddie’s mouth when Stan opens the door. It takes Stan a while to process what Eddie just  _ said, _ but when he does his eyes go wide and his mouth opens in a little “o”. 

“Where?” he asks, following Eddie out of the house and to the curb, peering into Richie’s basket on his bike. 

“The woods. It looked totally miserable,” Richie says, looking down at the tiny thing and frowning. “It still looks miserable. What do we do?”

“You-  _ you’re _ gonna try and take care of it?” Stan says, disbelieving. He stares at Richie’s determined face, at the way he’s protectively cradling the bird now, and sighs. “You’re gonna need to keep it warm. And call like- a fucking vet, because if you try and feed it the wrong food it could  _ die. _ Plus, it looks like its wing is broken, so  _ please _ just- take it to a vet.”

“Okay!” Richie says, happy that Stan didn’t yell at him over this. He  _ knew _ something was wrong with the poor little thing. “Vet. I can do that. C’mon Eddie,” he says, placing the bird gently back into the basket and hopping on his bike. “Thanks, Stan the man!” he calls, peddling away with Eddie following close behind. 

Stan shakes his head and just  _ hopes _ they actually go to a vet and not Google how to do everything at home.

(If Richie has a new bird friend for the next few weeks, well. No one really questions it.)


	9. swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: BASEBALL RICHI!!!!, eddie is the scorekeeper, the coach is exasperated with richie (who isnt tho), if i make this a long convoluted college au some day no one look at me

“15, you’re up next!” the coach calls, not even looking up from his chart. Richie groans,  _ loudly, _ and pretends he actually wants to play today (it’s not  _ his _ fault the pretty boy down the hall from him kept him up all night. It’s really not, no matter  _ what _ everyone else says). 

“Be honest, do I have to?” Richie asks, walking over and standing behind the fence next to his coach. He’s maybe whining, just a little “I’m pretty tired from last night bec-”

“Tozier, if you’re about to overshare about your life  _ again, _ please.  _ Please _ save me the trouble. Just go warm up,” the coach interrupts, looking over his shoulder to the scorekeeper. “You doing okay, Kaspbrak?”

“Just dandy,” the boy replies, and Richie turns to see probably the most  _ beautiful person he’s ever seen _ (leagues better than the pretty boy down the hall. Richie’s sure of it) _ . _ Richie didn’t even know they  _ had _ a scorekeeper. 

“Well, hello,” Richie says, walking over and taking a seat next to the boy. “It must be my lucky day.”

“Why’s that,” the boy replies, deadpan. He chances a look over to Richie, and his face is even more unimpressed than his voice. 

“Well, it’s not everyday I see people as beautiful as you,” Richie replies, completely serious. “What’s your name?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?” the boy says instead of answering, going back to looking at his sheet, and then back up to the game. 

“I- Yeah,” Richie replies, eyebrows furrowing. The boy didn’t even react to being called beautiful. What the fuck.

“Tozier I swear to  _ God _ ,  _ if you don’t go warm up- _ ” his coach threatens, and Richie is up out of his seat in seconds. He might not want to play  _ today _ but that doesn’t mean he never wants to play  _ again.  _ The boy scoffs from his seat, and Richie feels himself blush on instinct. 

He grabs his bat, moving to the warm up box, and vaguely hears his coach call the boy Eddie.  _ Eddie.  _ It echoes around in his head while he’s warming up, just waiting for Bill to either make a hit or strike out. Lucky for the team, it’s the former, and Bill makes two bases. 

Unlucky for Richie, he now has to bat, and he can’t stop fucking thinking of the boy in the dugout. 

If he purposely strikes out -much to the dismay of his coach- just so he can go sit next to Eddie and have him explain how to keep score, no one but Bill looks twice. 


	10. pattern

Like clockwork, Richie and Eddie show up to the clubhouse at the same time without even meaning to.

And like clockwork, Richie gets into the hammock with the promise of ten minutes! and is not out in ten minutes.

“Why are you always so fucking insufferable?” Eddie responds at the eleven minute mark, and Richie can hear Stan sigh behind him.

So what if this happened every day.

“Me? Insufferable? Because I’m laying in a hammock?” Richie asks, sitting up a little more to get ready for the inevitable (Eddie shoving his way in when Richie doesn’t move, legs sprawled across Richie’s body haphazardly).

“Yes! Because we all agreed there’s a ten minute rule and it’s now been-” he checks his watch, “twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds! So get the fuck up, asshole!”

“You’re the one who made the rule, idiot. No one else agreed to it because no one else cares,” Richie says, throwing out his arms to orchestrate how everyone else is in their own little world, not giving a fuck if Richie was in the hammock or not.

Eddie huffs, and like fucking clockwork, shoves his way into the hammock, making angry noises as he goes. Richie wishes he didn’t find it endearing.

“You guys do this everyday, don’t you ever get tired?” Mike asks, genuinely curious.

“Do what?” Richie and Eddie reply in sync, turning to smile at each other when they do. They look back to Mike, and wait for his reply.

“Fight over the same things. Follow the same pattern. Act like you don’t do this everyday,” he says, leaning back against the wall, shoulder pressed up against Stan’s.

“We don’t,” Eddie insists, and Richie scoffs. He can’t be that dense.

“Yes, we do,” Richie replies, rolling his eyes when Eddie gives him a look. “Every day it’s showing up at the same time, me promising I’ll be out of the hammock in ten minutes, you yelling at me at eleven minutes, then you shoving your way in at minute thirteen,” he says, reciting it like he’s reciting the lines to a play.

“What the hell,” Eddie says, and Richie can see a smile form on Mike’s face from the corner of his eye.

“I’m just saying. It kinda is a pattern, Eds,” Richie responds.

As always, minute fifteen marks the end of their little play with Eddie’s foot coming to kick off his glasses, flinging them to the floor.

“Geez, just break them some more Eds.” Richie says with nothing but fondness, in some sort of mock attempt to close out their little clockwork show.

Everything settles into their usual, Richie choosing to direct his attention into his newest comic, thinking about the fact that yes, this is a pattern, and it’s something he doesn’t mind playing out every day, especially with Eddie.


	11. snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: christmas reddie!!!, richi misses snow, but not the cold do NOT get him wrong, eddie is nice and supportive husband..., but also a little shit

Growing up in Maine, snow was a Christmas staple. In Richie’s opinion, it was always awful, no matter _ how _ pretty it looked. It was cold, and slippery, and by the next day everything was dirty and slushy (or god forbid, icy). It was _ not worth it. _

Being in California, now, where there was no snow to be found _ ever, _ Richie maybe, just _ maybe _ misses it a little bit. 

“Why are you moping? It’s Christmas Eve!” Eddie says happily, always full of Christmas cheer the second the month turned over into December. It never failed to make Richie feel warm inside, even if he wasn’t necessarily like that himself (it was hard not to be, though, even a little, when you were around Eddie). 

“It doesn’t _ feel _ like it,” Richie says, staring out the window to the bare grass of their front yard, California sun shining like it’s the middle of summer. He frowns, mouth pitching down unhappily.

Eddie hums, coming over and wrapping Richie up in a hug from behind. “You miss snow?” he guesses, and Richie feels his frown lift a little bit just from how intuitive Eddie can be sometimes. 

“Never known there to be a sunny Christmas,” Richie says by way of explanation, knowing Eddie will be able to read between the lines. “It’s just a little weird, that’s all.”

“I can make it absolutely freezing in the house and we can put on coats and drink hot chocolate if that’ll make you feel better?” Eddie suggests, smile evident in his voice. Richie knows he’d really do it, too, no matter how ridiculous it seems, if it meant Richie would be happy. 

“Fuck no, I still hate the cold,” Richie says, laughing slightly and holding Eddie’s hands where they’re rested over his stomach. “It’s just the look of the snow I miss.”

Eddie hums again, a small sound like he understands what Richie means, and detaches himself from Richie. “Well, we have cookies to make, so come away from the window and join me in the kitchen,” he says, pinching Richie’s side when the other man groans in displeasure. “No complaining, you agreed to help.”

“That was when I was half awake!” Richie complains, moving to go to the kitchen regardless.

“No complaining!” Eddie repeats, turning around and giving Richie a wide smile. 

Richie feels his heart flutter, even after all these years, and he finds himself giving Eddie a smile back.

  
Maybe he doesn’t need snow for it to feel like Christmas, maybe all he needs is Eddie.


	12. dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: from the same universe as d1, richie now wants a tattoo, eddie is... distressed to say the least

When Richie tells Eddie of his Saturday plans, Eddie genuinely has to sit down on the curb of the sidewalk to take it all in.

“Okay so, let me get this straight-”

“Straight? You’re gay, Eds, and I’m bi. There’s nothing straight about either of us.”

“First off Rich, you just said you’re bisexual, and second off, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes up at Richie, sighing as everything Richie told him mere moments ago finally dawns on him.

“I only have eyes for my spaghetti! If anything, I’m Eddie-sexual. What’re your favorite colors? I’ll make an awareness flag. Lemme know, okay? But, tell me what’s going on in your pretty little head, I can hear ya thinking from up here.” Richie smiles at him, coming to sit next to Eddie on the curb.

“Richie you just told me you want a fucking dragon tattoo on your _ spine _ . Not even a small one, a fucking huge one! First the septum and now a fucking tattoo, oh my god, what’s next, a lip piercing? Wait, Rich, _ no. _ ” Eddie quickly backtracks on the idea he just offered Richie, pleading for mercy as soon as the mischievous grin sneaks its way on Richie’s face. His gay little heart (which has the complete hots for Richie Tozier) can only take so much. It doesn’t help that Richie is well on his way to being 100% a visual representation of Eddie’s dream man, nor does the fact that Richie is his _ boyfriend_. Really, all he wants is to not die before the age of 25, but Richie is making that hard for him. Both figuratively and literally.

“A huge one like my dick!” Richie cackles, throwing his head back like he just said the funniest thing in his entire life.

Eddie stares at him blankly, and Richie grins back, breath heavy.

“Eddie, I’m skipping the arcade for this! Please support me, because if I cry I’d really prefer if it was around you only.” The pout Richie takes on is the rare one, the one Eddie is a complete sucker for.

He was already gonna go with him, to be honest, but Richie being utterly _ cute _ is a once in a blue moon sort of thing, so Eddie pretends to ponder it just to enjoy the pout for a bit longer.

Eddie grins at him, grabbing his hand and standing up, pulling Richie after him like a lost puppy. They continue their walk home (which is really just to Richie’s house, but Eddie spends so much time there that both Wentworth and Maggie welcome him with open arms, so it’s home to him) arms swinging wildly as the breeze ruffles Richie’s long curly hair.

“Of course I’ll be there, Chee. Even if I said no you would either drag me there anyway if I was already with you from the night before, or come all the way to my house and beg loudly until i say yes, probably resulting in my mother waking up and somehow, someway banning you from our property and the general neighborhood indefinitely.”

Richie grins, mischievous as always. “Damn fucking right, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Richie laughs, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”


	13. ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: eddie is... paranoid, richie is secretive, RICHIE LOVES EDDIE SO MUCH!!!, stan is exasperated with reddie... as always

Richie’s started smelling like ashes recently. It’s a new development, probably stemming from his influx of smoking cigarettes as of late, but there’s something about it that doesn’t quite yell nicotine use.

Eddie isn’t sure what it is, but he knows and swears that it’s not _ illegal _ by the gut feeling he has, so there’s really only one thing left to do.

In the middle of the school day Eddie barrels down the east wing and into the main hall, grabbing Stanley by his backpack strap as he leaves his math room. No one bats an eye at them, even if Stanley is tripping over his feet to keep up with Eddie’s quick pace. This is a free period they both share, the only Losers to do so, but Eddie doesn’t want to risk asking Stan while in the building, knowing very well Richie’s ADHD often leads to him leaving class to wander to cool off. It also doesn’t help that when Richie does have his moments, he scours the halls in search of Eddie who is the only thing that truly quells his ever inconsistent energy levels. So, to play it safe, Eddie drags Stan out onto the back fields, pushing him to the ground.

“You’re Rich’s best friend, correct?” Eddie points a finger at Stanley, eyes narrowed.

“Uh I’m pretty sure that applies to you, Eds.”

“Shut up Stan, you are. Besides, I’m his boyfriend _ and _ best friend, that’s a whole different level. Also, don’t call me that. Anyway, you’re his best friend, yeah?” Eddie repeats, putting emphasis on his words, like he _ needs _ Stanley to agree.

“Yes, Eddie. I am his best friend,” Stanley sighs, not exactly pleased at being all mushy. “Why?”

“He’s been smelling like ash recently. And I know its not his smoking thing, because he’s been trying to quit, but it doesn’t even smell like nicotine ash anyway. Just - ash.”

“Huh. Well,” Stanley trails off, head tilted. “Have you thought about asking him?”

Eddie snorts. “No shit, sherlock. That’s the first fucking thing I did.”

“Cool it drama queen, of course you did.” Stan rolls his eyes, leaning back on his palms. “Maybe he’s working on something private?”

_ Private. _ That word feels foreign when it comes to Richie and Eddie and their dynamic. Eddie frowns.

“But we’ve…. I mean, we always tell each other everything and I…” Eddie trails off, words flubbering. “I guess?”

“Of course, so if he’s not telling you this _ now _ , he’ll come around. And besides, it’s _ Richie _ we’re talking about. For all that chaotic energy and mean spirit he has, we all know it’ll never truly be directed at you. That kid wouldn’t hurt a fly when it comes to you. Take it easy Eds, okay? Don’t think negatively about it. I’d tell you don’t think much but you’re Eddie, so don’t think _ bad _. It’s all good. Now c’mon, the bell is gonna ring.”

Eddie lets Stanley drag him back in a daze, not exactly realizing he knows more than what he’s let on.

It doesn’t matter in the end, because later that same night Richie is throwing pebbles at his window like some sort of edgy teenage _ Romeo and Juliet_, whisper yelling, “Eddio, Eddio, Eddio, wherefore art thou Eddio! Deny thy mother and refuse thy name; or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Tozier!”

“You’re fucking annoying, Richie. And just because you substitute certain words for our situation doesn’t mean you’re anymore a romantic. And besides, Romeo and Juliet is a teenage rom-com tragedy. Do you want our relationship to be a tragedy too? I’d really prefer not to die at all when it comes to being with you. Actually, I’d just like to be with you without death involved at all.”

Sure Eddie gets a little winded after a little love rant, but he can’t be blamed for it when he was just prompted to get out of his fucking _comfortable_ blanket nest. You could argue that Eddie could very well just ignore him, but c’mon, it’s _Richie_ _and Eddie_. So _of course_ Eddie climbs out of the blanket nest.

“Just come down here Eddie! And no, I don’t wanna die with you either!” Richie says gleefully, excitement raining out of him like he just threw handfuls of glitter around him.

Within minutes Eddie is swooped into Richie’s arms, somehow being twirled _ loudly _ because there isn’t another word for how Richie does things. He’s loud and big and Eddie _ loves _ him. “C’mon!” Riche tugs him down the street where he parked his car. It’s been a thing he’s done since that one time where he pulled in front of Eddie’s house one evening and Sonia came barreling out of the front door, yelling about how he’s corrupting her son while Eddie himself tried, and failed epicly, to calm his mother down. It didn’t matter if it was a Saturday, Sonia has made it very clear that her son cannot and will not have fun ever in his life.

Richie drives a little ways out into the woods, on the cusp of the town line and a good half a mile from their little spot at the quarry. He jumps out of the car, digging into the trunk as Eddie takes his time getting out of the car, smiling to himself about how excited Richie seems.

“I’ve been working on this for awhile, Eddie Baby. I made it with my own sweat and tears. And blood, because I definitely hurt myself a few times.” He tacks on after a pause. “So, sorry for the tang of metal you might catch. But- anyway.”

Riche grabs Eddie by the hand, gently pushing him to sit down on a rock by the river bank as he steps away, telling Eddie to keep his gaze at the sky. Richie returns in seconds, hand entwining with Eddie’s as a light goes off, a whistle following.

Eddie stares at the firework piece exploding in the air, the message ‘_Eddie!!! I love you!!!_’ in a pretty pink. 

Maybe a secretive Richie was worth it, sometimes.


	14. overgrown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie is tall puppy of a boy, forgot how to use his body..., he misses sleeping with eddie ok!!!, eddie is INTUITIVE and INVENTIVE.

When Richie reached junior year, it was like a switch flipped, and he seemed to grow a foot overnight (not really, it was more like seven inches over a summer, but _ still_), and lost complete control of how his body worked.

It was weird, being taller than everyone now, seeing the tops of their heads versus the backs of their necks, and he honestly didn’t even feel like he fit in his own _ bed _ anymore.

He _ especially _ didn’t fit into bed with Eddie anymore. 

Richie can’t even lie and say it doesn’t make him sad, because it _ does_. He doesn’t often admit that things can affect him, but when it comes to Eddie, he can’t deny _ anything _ about his emotions. The fact he can’t just snuggle up to Eddie anymore at their sleepovers and fall asleep with the other boy’s hand in his hair makes him feel _ awful_. 

And really, it shouldn’t, because even Eddie is too big for it now, too (even if he isn’t nearly as tall or broad as Richie at this point. He’s tall _ enough _ that it just doesn’t _ work _ anymore). But it sucks, it fucking _ sucks_. It results in Richie not being able to sleep properly with Eddie in the room, anymore. 

If Eddie notices Richie’s awful moods every time they have a sleepover, he doesn’t say anything.

Or, rather, he _ doesn't_, until this time. 

“Okay, so what the fuck is wrong, Rich?” Eddie says, sitting up in bed when Richie’s huffed and sighed for the tenth time in the past hour. 

“Can’t sleep,” Richie says instead of the truth, not wanting to let Eddie know how _ pathetic _ he feels over this. He’d rather dig his own grave than have Eddie laugh at him. 

“_Why._” Eddie frowns, like he knows Richie is hiding something from him, like he knows Richie isn’t being honest. 

“I- I just. It’s uncomfortable as shit down here, dude,” Richie lies again, sitting up and looking up to where Eddie is now leaning against the wall behind his bed. Eddie looks tired, and Richie feels guilty that he’s kept Eddie up so long. 

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t grow two feet overnight,” Eddie says, and mouth opening like he’s about to say more. He stops, eyebrows furrowing, and then looks down to Richie. “Is that what you’re upset about? Cause you don’t fit up here anymore?”

And _ bingo_, Eddie Spaghetti gets another point in the _ knowing Richie better than he knows himself sometimes _ game. 

“Fuckin'- shit. Maybe,” Richie mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat at how ridiculous it all is. Who the hell gets upset over not being able to sleep in a bed with their best friend anymore? _ Richie, apparently. _

Eddie hums, then seems to perk up with an idea. 

“Just- here, come up here,” Eddie says, reaching down and tugging on Richie’s shirt sleeve. 

“I don’t _ fit, _ loser,” Richie says, but stands up and sits on Eddie’s bed regardless. He lays down when Eddie prompts him to, on his back, and he sighs long and loud. “I don’t know what your plan is but it’s probably not gonna work,” he informs Eddie. 

“Just, shut up,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowing again in thought. He shoves Richie over, closer to the wall, and moves so he’s on the outside. “I’m gonna lay halfway on top of you and you’re not gonna complain one bit,” Eddie says, giving Richie a smile. 

Richie frowns, just to be a brat, but he feels a part of the uncomfortable knot in his stomach loosen a little bit. Eddie gets situated, and the comfortable weight of him on top of Richie has the knot loosening completely. 

“Asshole,” Richie mumbles, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist in an exact opposition of his words, just so he doesn’t fall off the bed in the middle of the night. “You’re heavy,” he says, just to be annoying once more.

“Shut up and go to bed,” Eddie says, reaching up and shoving a hand into Richie’s hair just how he likes.

Richie hums, eyes closing, and has the best sleep he’s had in months during one of their sleepovers.


	15. legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie... knows weird legends, and wants to reclaim a bridge as his own because hes wack, eddie is seriously tired of this

“Have you heard of the Goatman?” Richie asks late one summer, lollipop hanging out of his mouth as him and Eddie lounge against one of the bigger rocks in the quarry. 

Richie’s taken to swimming less lately, out of the pure fact that it’s a lot of energy and he’s a growing, lazy boy, whereas Eddie just ate, executing the 30 minute superstition around eating and swimming.

“Goatman? What the fuck, Rich.”

“It’s a serious question! Yes or no?” Richie turns to him, hair tussling in the wind.

“Who _ hasn’t _ heard of the Goatman?” Stan asks, joining the conversation as the rest of the Losers follow behind him to dry off.

“Me apparently.” Eddie rolls his eyes as Stan and Richie do their best friend telepathy thing, nodding to Eddie as if they’re saying ‘_get a load of this guy’ _.

“_Anyway_,” Richie stresses, getting everyone back to the conversation at hand. “The Goatman has this bridge and he’s like, claimed ownership of it. Like, how all of Derry’s couples claimed the kissing bridge and then I claimed it because of my unwavering homosexuality that precedes all hetero nonsense by carving Eddie and I’s initials on it? I want to claim The Goatman’s bridge.”

“Then let’s do it!” Bev claps excitedly.

“Well it’s all the way in Denton,” Richie frowns. He picks at his cuticles like this fact puts him at in impasse, or some sort of minor inconvenience. 

“Where’s Denton?” Bill asks from his spot next to Mike.

“In fucking Texas!” Richie cries, throwing his hands up. “That’s like, 40 lightyears away! I’m not even sure if Texas is real! Did it ever truly return as a state or is it still it’s own country or whatever the fuck history said?”

“Texas is 2,221.8 miles away, _ not _ 40 lightyears,” Ben supplies.

“That’s still miles! _ Miles_.” The incredulity in Richie’s voice makes Eddie roll his eyes once more. “I can barely run the mile at school guys, how am I gonna get to fucking Texas? The bridge is crying for me! Begging me to own it!”

Eddie hits the knee closest to him. “With a car dumbass.”

“Gas money!” Richie cries, rolling off the rock dramatically. He fake sobs loudly into the dirt for a few minutes before he stands up suddenly. His face contorts into this specific one, where the Losers just _ know _ that somethings come to mind, something all sorts of _ Richie_. “I got it. There’s a bridge that was home to some sort of different freak fucking accidents south of Derry. I bet with all my heart that something spooky’s going on there!” Richie grins, turning to tug on his shirt from the ground. He tugs his socks onto his feet, haphazardly sliding into his shoes. “Well. I’m off. I have a bridge to own.” 

It’s completely Richie to not wait for anyone, but they all know he’d complain about going alone, so with a communal groan the six of them stand to follow Richie up to the two cars parked up on the road. Out of the seven of them, only Bill and Richie are blessed with the opportunity to drive so they’ve taken to traveling with them. Eddie as always slides into the passenger of Rich’s 2016 Dodge Charger, Stan claiming ownership of the backseat whereas Mike, Bev, and Ben go with Bill in his 2015 Honda Civic.

Richie takes the lead, switching on the hanging walkie talkie as he pulls out onto the road. With his right hand holding the button, he speaks as Eddie turns on some music. “Okay, Bill, We’re gonna stay on the outskirts of town because it’s easier to get south with the evening traffic. These fucks somehow don’t know how to fucking drive.”

“Got it!” Bill’s voice crackles with the radio wave frequency.

Stan pops his head in between the seats, glancing over to watch Eddie scroll through Richie’s music. “Play that.” He murmurs, pointing at a song. Richie grins as _ Sweet Dreams _ by _ Eurythmics _ flows in through the impressive stereo system, making the short ride a fun one.

Sure enough, by the end of the song Richie is parking on the edge of the road, yards away from the sign chained off the wooden barricade. A few years ago, Derry had cut access to this road off because of the freak accidents, deeming it ‘unsafe’ and a ‘life hazard’. Now all that lies is the deteriorating sign that says ‘Danger! Stay away! Trespassers will be prosecuted.’

Of course, no one in this fucking town listens to the signs anyway, so it’s not rare to see a bunch of high school kids lounge around here to smoke and drink. But only in the daytime. No one comes here at night. 

Tonight is blessedly people-less, leaving only the losers and whatever spirits haunt the area, complete with the rising moon.

“Should we be here?” Eddie asks, nervous.

“Eddie, we’ve done far worse shit. Trespassing is a crime for babies.”

“Why do you know so much about crime?” Eddie narrows his eyes.

Richie winks. “It’s in the Tozier genes, baby.”

“Your dad is a _ dentist_.” Eddie deadpans, pinching Richie’s side.

“_Richie _ Tozier genes, Eds. Now c’mon!”

Eddie’s _ don’t call me that _ falls onto deaf ears as the Losers climb over the wooden post, making their way to the bridge. The overall atmosphere is already unsettling, but it doesn’t help that rain clouds are beginning to creep above them, rumbling with thunder.

“_Eddie _.” A voice whispers in his ear, causing him to shriek. Hands fly out as he turns around, smacking Richie on the chest as he begins to laugh.

“Fuck you!” Eddie groans, hands sliding down his face in faux misery.

Richie laughs again, wide and bright, coming around to stand at the beginning of the bridge with Eddie in hand. “Alright paranormal assholes, i’m claiming this fucking bridge. If you want it back, come fucking take it.”

After a few minutes of silence, nothing happening whatsoever, Richie snickers. “This is my bridge-” he raises his right hand, “and this is my man!” Eddie’s arm raises along with Richie’s, simultaneously jumping out of his skin from the loud-ass clashing thunder at the perfect timing. Lightning strikes across the sky, encasing Richie in this beautiful blue glow as rain pelts them, ignoring the other Losers who scramble back to the cars with varying degrees of yells.

Richie kisses Eddie on his cheek after the victorious moment passes, tugging Eddie back while covering him with his jacket so he doesn’t get sick.

  
Safe in the car, warm and cozy, Eddie thinks, ‘Man, _ fuck _ this bridge.’


	16. wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: eddie is crafty with flowers, and richie is in love, that is all.

“Whatcha doin, Eds?” Richie asks one day at the quarry, plopping down in the grass next to Eddie. He jumps when Eddie makes a noise of distress, the boy staring at Richie in horror. “What’d I do?”

“You’re sitting on the flowers!” Eddie practically whines, pushing at Richie’s shoulders until he moves to a flowerless area. He makes another noise of distress when the flowers are thoroughly _ squished_, unusable now. “I _ was _ making a flower crown but now- now there’s no more left to use,” he says, mouth pitching down in a frown.

Richie frowns along with him, feeling guilty that he practically ruined Eddie’s little project. “I’m sorry. Wanna go look for more?” he offers, already starting to stand up before Eddie gives him a response. Eddie nods anyway, and stands up as well, cradling the wild flower chain to his chest as they start walking to another patch of grass, one that has more flowers to use. 

Eddie sits down gingerly, checking for flowers before he gets comfortable, and starts combing through the grass for good flowers to use. Richie watches in awe, wondering just where Eddie learned how to do this (probably Stanley, honestly) as his fingers deftly tie knots with the stems without breaking them at all. Richie finally takes a seat, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake as earlier, and sits in silence as Eddie continues his chain of flowers. 

When it’s been a significant amount of time (because honestly, making a flower chain doesn’t look easy at all to Richie, so he’s not about to complain it’s taking too long), Richie looks over to find Eddie’s turned the chain into a loop. “Why’d you do that?” Richie asks, scooting closer as Eddie starts on a new chain. The loop rests delicately on Eddie’s knee, looking beautiful. 

“It’s a flower crown,” Eddie responds, tying two stems together and picking up a third flower. “Dunno what they’re for other than to look pretty, but they’re fun to make,” he says, finally looking up at Richie and giving him a smile. 

“Can I have one?” Richie asks, staring at Eddie’s hands where they’re still working on tying knots. 

“What do you think I’m making right now, silly?” Eddie says, laughing softly. Richie smiles widely, and waits patiently (honestly, as patient as Richie can be. He still fidgets and plays with the grass, but for Richie, it’s _ patience _ ). Eddie looks up after another half hour has gone by, and Richie finds he’s made another loop. It’s vaguely lopsided and a little big, but Richie _ loves it_. 

He ducks his head when Eddie prompts him to, lifting it up once he feels the soft weight of the crown on top of his head. “How does it look?” Richie asks, unable to hide his smile when Eddie puts on the one he made previously as well. 

“Really good,” Eddie says with a smile of his own, standing up and holding out a hand for Richie to help him up. Richie takes it and stands, suddenly excited to rejoin the rest of the Losers who are closer to the water so he can show off what Eddie made him. 

Richie might look kinda silly, flower crown a size too big for his head and wild flower petals falling into his hair, but he’s never been more pleased than in that moment, just content to be holding hands with Eddie where he didn’t let go, and wearing something the boy made just for him.


	17. ornament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: ornament decorating traditions!!!, eddie is a romantic sap, but richie didn't get the memo, He Will Remember This Though, this is actually something i used to do when i was younger and forgot all about it until i had to write this

“Mikey boy, can I have the red sharpie?” Richie asks, holding out his hand in preparation. He gives Mike a smile when the boy hands it over, and gets to work on drawing blood drips on his ornament. 

It had become a tradition of shorts, for the Losers to decorate their own ornaments for holidays (all of them, really, even fucking _ Thanksgiving_), and Halloween was _ no _ exception. If anything, Halloween was the _ most _ important holiday for this tradition. If the dining room table in Bill’s house was _ not _ covered in various markers, pens, glitters and decorations, they were doing it _ all wrong _ (they didn’t decorate pumpkins, because as far as Stan is concerned, it’s _ too fucking messy _ and _ gross_).

“Whatcha putting on yours, Eddie?” Bev asks, leaning over into Eddie’s space to get a look. He doesn’t answer, showing her wordlessly, and the smile she gives him is megawatt. “That’s fucking adorable,” she says, going back to her own ornament, smile not fading. 

“I wanna see!” Richie calls out, trying to lean over the table to get a look. Eddie snatches his ornament back so quickly, it almost gives Richie whiplash. 

“_Don’t,_” Eddie hisses, narrowing his eyes at Richie. “It’s a surprise, dickwad.”

Richie pouts, giving Eddie his best puppy dog eyes in hopes it’ll break him down, but for once it doesn’t work (which is honestly more shocking than the thought of Eddie not wanting to share something with him- they didn’t _ know _ privacy). He pouts even more when Eddie doesn’t budge, and goes back to drawing on his various blood drips and bones. 

The Losers are silent for the next hour, only interrupting the silence to ask each other to pass supplies or to make groans of frustration or happy noises at their creations. Richie fidgets in his seat, debating on just getting up with the excuse of going to the bathroom just so he can take a _ peek _ at Eddie’s. Eddie shoots him a look when he tries to get up, and Richie has to sit back down slowly just so he’ll stop _ glaring_. 

It’s another half hour before most of them finish, the only one still working being Eddie. Richie cannot fathom what he can be working on so intently, but if the furrow of his brow and his tongue caught between his teeth is anything to go by, it’s something Eddie deems important.

They all wait patiently (or in Richie’s case- fidget _ impatiently_) until Eddie puts down his marker and gives them all a smile. 

“Okay, ready?” Bill asks at the head of the table, cradling his ornament in both hands. It’s _ also _ a tradition to show your ornament at the end, no matter how good or bad it is. _ Judgement free zone, _ Bill likes to stress, every single time. When everyone nods, Bill counts down from 3, and they all flip their ornaments in sync. 

Richie’s eyes fly to Eddie’s immediately, and what he sees almost, _ almost _ makes him cry. It’s of two bats holding hands, one with a small ‘R’ above it, and the other with a small ‘E’. There’s a moon and stars as well, but Richie can’t focus on anything other than the bats.

“What the fuck. Is that us?” Richie exclaims, like it could be anyone else. He just has to make _ sure_.

“Course it is, idiot,” Eddie says with a smile, blushing when Bev nudges him with her shoulder. 

“Mine’s just stupid bones and shit! Why didn’t you tell me we were being romantic! I totally would’ve been romantic back!” Richie whines, ignoring how the rest of the Losers are staring at them all fondly. Eddie rolls his eyes, but holds his hand out for Richie’s ornament anyway. 

“Gimme yours, I’ll give you mine,” he says, already holding out his for Richie to take. This was _ not _ part of the tradition, but Richie wasn’t about to complain when Eddie was offering him something as cute as what he just spent the last hour and a half on. 

“Thanks, Eds,” Richie says with a wide smile, turning the ornament around delicately like it’s the most prized thing he owns (which isn’t totally a lie- anything Eddie gives him is prized in his eyes). 

  
Sure, Richie didn’t get the romantic memo this holiday, but the next one? Oh it’s _ on. _


	18. misfit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: soft reddie cuddling!!! being cute bfs!!!, plus some sneaking around and harmless lying bc sonia is... something else, extra point if u are on board with my Richie Likes Being The Little Spoon Even Though He Is Big agenda

For the record, Eddie does not think Richie is a misfit. 

He does not think Richie is a misfit, or a delinquent, or anything else his mother has to say about him. 

As far as Eddie’s concerned, Richie is the best boyfriend he could possibly ask for (besides the whole throwing rocks at his window at midnight to get Eddie to sneak out and see him thing. That could do with a change). He’s sweet, and caring, and remembers everything Eddie tells him, even the weird stuff Eddie wishes he would forget. The only real problem is the fact Eddie’s mom cannot, _ cannot _ find out that he is dating _ Richie Tozier _ of all people. 

Truthfully, she’d rather he date _ Stan _ (that is, after she got over the whole “_y__our son is gay_” thing), and he’s been friends with Stan so long he’s like a _ brother _ to Eddie. It’d just be- _ fucking weird. _

So no, Eddie doesn’t think Richie is a misfit. Which is exactly why he lies to his mother every Friday night, saying he’s going to study at Bill’s and stay over, instead walking halfway down the block to Richie’s car. 

“You know, Eds, one of these nights she’s gonna follow you down the block and we’ll get busted,” Richie says the second Eddie gets in the car. He leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek in greeting anyway, and smiles when Eddie blushes like always. “She already hates me and she doesn’t even know we’re _ dating_.”

“It’s fine, she never moves from the living room anyway,” Eddie assures, buckling his seatbelt. “Where are we going?”

“Mine?” Richie asks, cocking his head to the side in question. He starts the car and pulls away from the curb when Eddie gives his nod of confirmation, not in the mood to go out anywhere tonight, anyway. 

It’s a short drive, one Eddie could honestly walk, but Richie insists on picking him up every single time. Unlike Eddie’s mom, Richie’s parents don’t give a _ fuck _ about who he dates, and love Eddie to bits (_because honestly, who doesn’t?_). That’s why Eddie walks in like it’s his own home, and goes straight to Richie’s room without looking to see if he’s following. 

Eddie’s already laying on Richie’s bed, shoes kicked halfway across the room (because Richie’s house doesn’t have rules like _ take your shoes off at the door! _ or _ pile your shoes neatly! _ and Eddie _ will _ take advantage of that) when Richie walks in, smile growing on his face when he sees Eddie sprawled out completely. 

“Comfy?” he asks like he already knows the answer, kicking off his shoes and placing Eddie’s backpack in the corner of his room next to a pile of clothes. Richie’s room is an organized mess, one that had Eddie on the verge of a panic attack the first time he saw it. Now, it barely bothers him (barely, because it does just a _ little_, but if Richie doesn’t mind then he doesn’t really either).

“Very,” Eddie hums, closing his eyes against the lights in the room. He smiles when he feels the bed dip next to his side, and reaches out blindly for Richie’s hand. “Missed you,” he says, rolling over so he can curl up enough to have his head in Richie’s lap. Richie grants him with both his hand to hold, and his other hand in Eddie’s hair. 

“You saw me at school earlier,” Richie says, smiling despite himself. 

“Well, I wanna see you all the time,” Eddie mumbles into Richie’s thigh, smiling when Richie scratches his scalp soothingly. “Everyday, all the time, never wanna be away from you,” Eddie admits, not caring if he sounds clingy. He knows Richie feels the same, anyway. 

“Sap,” Richie says, but Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says it. “Move so we can lay down,” he says, pushing Eddie gently even when he whines. 

They get situated, Eddie lying with his head on Richie’s chest, Eddie insisting on holding Richie’s hand even if it’s slightly uncomfortable because of the angle. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s dozed off after a while of laying in silence until Richie whispers that he needs to get up and turn off the light, Eddie rolling to the other side of the bed sleepily so Richie can get up. 

The lights turn off, and Richie rejoins Eddie in bed, coming up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Eddie knows by morning the positions will be reversed, Eddie the one hugging Richie, but for now this works. 

  
Richie might be a misfit (or delinquent, or anything else she likes to say) to Eddie’s mom, but to Eddie, he’s just _ Richie. _


	19. sling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: in which eddie breaks his arm, and sadly texts richie pics of his arm in a sling..., so what does richie tozier do???, Break Into His Room., ridiculous boys

When Eddie breaks his arm, it’s an _ event_. 

An event, meaning he gets locked up in his house for weeks, and sadly texts Richie pictures of his arm in a sling with a pout on his face. Richie feels _ awful, _ because it’s basically his fault Eddie broke his arm. _ Basically, _ meaning it absolutely _ is _ Richie’s fault.

To be fair, though, Richie didn’t think Eddie would actually fall. They always fucked around and pushed each other on their bikes, just to be annoying to the other person pedalling. That’s just how it _ was_. 

And it was fun, until Richie went and pushed Eddie in retaliation, and the kid lost his balance and fell directly on his outstretched arm. Richie doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the _ crack _it made (or Eddie’s yell of pain. He’s already had one dream about it, 0/10 experience in his opinion). 

The first time Richie sneaks into Eddie’s room, Eddie almost screams.

Richie doesn’t know _ why_, because he _ did _ text Eddie he was coming over. Sure, the text went unread, but you can’t fault Richie for not warning him. 

“What the _ fuck, _ Rich?” Eddie hisses, voice low so as not to wake his mother across the hall. His arm is out of the sling since it’s night, but the pristine white cast glows in the light from the moon outside. Richie feels _ awful_.

“I missed you,” Richie says honestly, standing near Eddie’s open window if Eddie decides to kick him out. Based on the look on Eddie’s face, one of residual fear at someone _ breaking into his room _ and partial grumpiness, well. It could go either way, for Richie at this point. 

“So you broke into my room at 1am?” Eddie says incredulously, staring at Richie with wide eyes. 

“Well… yeah,” Richie says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I texted you,” he tries to defend himself, holding up his phone with the text chat open. Eddie sighs in exasperation, but pats his bed anyway. Richie smiles widely, and takes a seat. 

They spend the next two hours talking, even though Richie has to walk home after this, and something in Richie feels lighter afterwards. As he’s half walking, half jogging home, he gets a text from Eddie that reads _ “text me an hour before you break in, next time,_” and smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. 

The next few weeks go by with Richie spending all his free time with Eddie at school, or breaking into his room late at night. It’s sort of exhilarating, having to talk in hushed whispers at 1am, and then seeing each other at school the next day like nothing happened. Richie learns to love it.

  
The day Eddie gets his cast off and is allowed outside of his house again, he texts Richie a simple _ “you can still come over at night, if you want,_” and Richie grins at his phone for a solid thirty seconds before texting back a _ “see you tonight, then.” _


	20. tread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: this is short but, eddie and richie hold hands while walking home, thats it thats literally all

They’re walking home. 

They’re walking home together, like always, getting further and further away from Bill’s house and closer and closer to Eddie’s. Richie always enjoys this part of hanging out, when he gets to walk Eddie home from wherever they were (the quarry, the barrens, Bill’s house, Stan’s-), gets to talk to him in a more quiet, muted way than the loud boisterous way he does when they’re all together. 

Richie, every time they do this, has an overwhelming urge. 

An overwhelming urge to  _ hold Eddie’s hand. _

It always makes walking a little harder, a little more like he’s walking on sand rather than normal cement, like he’s dangerously treading a line between friendship and  _ something more _ just by thinking about it. They’re far enough away from town center he  _ could, _ no one would see, no one would question why two boys were holding hands for seemingly no reason. 

This time, though, something’s different. 

Something, being Eddie Kaspbrak reaching over, taking Richie Tozier’s hand in his own, and shoving it into Richie’s coat pocket like it’s natural. Like it’s second nature, like they  _ do this _ (this, meaning holding hands, meaning acting like it’s normal).

Richie sputters, cheeks going bright red (and really, he could blame it on the cold fall air. He could, and he will, if Eddie calls him out). Eddie looks over, raising an eyebrow, footsteps crunching on the leaves that line the street.

“I’m cold,” Eddie says simply, but as he says it he starts rubbing comforting circles into Richie’s hand, like he’s reassuring Richie this is  _ okay _ . He gives Richie a gentle smile, turns back to looking down the street, and says, “Stop thinking so much.”

And okay, Richie can do that, if Eddie wants him to. He’d do anything for Eddie.


	21. treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie gets sentimental, kinda, eddie gets a little annoyed, Poor Baby Richie Doesnt Want To Go To College And Leave Eddie, this is like a precursor to romance if u wanna read it as such

“I’m gonna miss this,” Richie says out of the blue one day, lying in the hammock of the clubhouse. He’s not looking at Eddie, eyes deliberately staying far away from him and concentrating on his comic instead. It’s just the two of them for right now, but Richie thinks the rest of them are coming later, too. 

“Miss what?” Eddie asks, head cocking to the side in confusion. Richie can see it from the corner of his eye, and he smiles involuntarily. Eddie always seemed like a cute puppy when he did that. 

“You know- _ this _ ,” Richie responds, purposely being vague. Emotions and talking about them were never really his strong suit. Like sure, he knew his emotions well and knew how to handle them (_sort of _), but discussing and dealing with them openly? Not a chance. 

“Gonna have to be a little more specific, Rich,” Eddie says, smile evident in his voice. Richie doesn’t know why he’s smiling. 

“Like… this. Us. Hanging out all the time,” Richie finally explains, words choppy and mismatched as he speaks. He takes a breath, and mumbles, “_College is soon ,_” just praying Eddie won’t hear him clearly.

Richie can see the exact moment Eddie freezes out of the corner of his eye. See how he stops, rights himself, and takes a deep breath. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about it,” Eddie says slowly, voice soft. 

“Yeah, well. I wanted to treasure _ this _ but like- I can’t. Ignore it anymore?” Richie says, finally looking over to Eddie. Taking in the way he’s sitting ramrod straight -something he only does when he’s uncomfortable-, how his hands are white knuckle gripping the wood slab beneath him. 

“We’re not gonna- you’re not gonna stop talking to me, though, right?” Eddie asks, question bursting out of him like he’s been holding it back for weeks (and he has, probably, ever since Richie got his acceptance letter and banned everyone from talking about him leaving. He just wanted to pretend, for a little while longer, that he wasn’t). 

Richie sits, worrying his lip between his teeth. He knows the answer is _ obviously not _ , but what if _ Eddie _ just wants to get rid of him, and this is his subtle way of telling him? It doesn’t make sense, Richie _ knows _ it doesn’t make sense, but his anxiety is telling him otherwise. 

“I mean- I _ mean_, if you want me to-”

“Why would I want you to, asshole?” Eddie interrupts, sounding vaguely annoyed. And okay, Richie definitely deserves that. 

“Well I don’t know! Maybe you want to go off, make new friends, see what’s out there! Maybe you want me to as well!” Richie exclaims, knowing he sounds silly. Eddie making new friends didn’t have to mean he’d get rid of Richie. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a huff. “Asshole,” he says, softer this time, more fondly. “I’d never let go of you, even if you begged me to.”

“Well. Well I guess it’s a good thing I won’t do that then, yeah?” Richie says, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks and up to his ears. He doesn’t even know _ why _ he’s blushing (yes he does, he _ does _ , but he’s been valiantly repressing it since he was 14 years old. Eddie doesn’t have to know _ anything_). 

There’s a knock at the club house door, and then it’s opening, ending the conversation there. Eddie says a quick “_you’re not getting away with this that easily_,” before everyone comes down, and Richie just hopes Eddie will be kind to him later. 

  
He just- he treasured being with Eddie _ so much. _ He didn’t want college to change that in the slightest.


	22. ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie thinks there is a ghost in his house, but is there???, eddie has a secreeet

“Dude I think there’s a fucking ghost in my house,” Richie says, busting through Eddie’s open bedroom door. 

“A ghost,” Eddie says slowly, staring at Richie like he’s truly lost it.

“Yes! A ghost!” Richie exclaims, throwing out his hands wide. “A spooky scary _ boooo _ ass bitch, that one.”

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, blinking once, twice, three times before he even registers what Richie fully said. 

“I keep fucking losing stuff! And then I’m like, hey ghost, please give me my shit back, and it shows up again later!” Richie says, sounding vaguely hysterical. 

And _ oh_, everything suddenly clicks for Eddie. He barely manages to hold back a laugh. 

“So this ghost,” Eddie starts, hiding his smile behind his book. _ Fuck _ this was fun. “It just- takes your stuff? And then they just, come back?”

“Yeah! In different spots,” Richie says, sitting down on Eddie’s bed heavily, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. 

“I see,” Eddie responds, peeking over his book to give Richie a frown, like he’s really taking this all in. “Should we go ghost hunting?”

“Absolutely,” Richie responds immediately, standing up again with a renewed vigor. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

And he looks so genuinely excited, Eddie can’t bear to tell him it’s just Stan. It’s just Stan, fucking with Richie, stealing his stuff and bringing it back, just to be an asshole. 

So, they’ll go ghost hunting, if it means Eddie gets to continue seeing Richie so excited.


	23. ancient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie gets a little introspective, over love of all things, this ones so short im sorry

When Richie thinks about his feelings for Eddie, the only word that comes to mind is _ ancient. _

Now, don’t take that the wrong way. When Richie says _ ancient_, he doesn’t mean decrepit and dying. He means something as old as time itself, something that just _ is_. 

He just loves Eddie, in the same ways the sun rises in the morning and sets at night, and how waterfalls just keep moving. 

When he thinks about the kisses, the subtle gestures to signal to each other, the fond gazes one sends when they think the other isn’t looking, all he can think about is how it’s so _ingrained _ into them. It’s been happening since they were kids, since they were in that shitty, small, unaccepting town.

And really, it _has_ been a thing forever. A thing- all the fond gazes and the sitting too close, the whispered words and the laughs a little too long for jokes that weren’t even that funny. Richie didn’t even realize until recently how natural all of it came, like they’ve been doing it for longer than they’ve been together (which they have- they’ve been doing it since they were 13 and just realizing what romantic feelings even _ were_). 

So yes, their love is ancient, but in no way is it dying.


	24. dizzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richie gets drunk, and wants to marry eddie, please give bill an award he deserves one

Richie is _ dizzy_. He’s dizzy, he’s tired, and he just wants to lay down but Bill keeps saying _ not here, not here_. It’s ridiculous, in Richie’s opinion. The sidewalk looks very comfortable.

“I miss Eddie,” Richie whines, knowing he’s making it harder for Bill to walk with him with how he’s barely supporting himself. 

“We’re going to Eddie,” Bill responds, sounding exasperated. Richie can’t fathom why.

And okay, Richie’s maybe drunk. Just a little. So yes, he’s stumbling, and yes he’s vaguely slurring his words, but that doesn’t matter. Because what _ matters _ right now is that he gets home to Eddie, and gets to get cuddled by him until he falls asleep. _ That’s _ what matters right now. 

“Be honest,” Richie says slowly, blinking hard. They seem to be moving faster than his brain can keep up with right now. Wasn’t that tree in front of him a second ago? How is it _ next _ to him now? Bill hums to signal he’s listening. “Do you think Eddie would say yes?”

“Say yes to what,” Bill asks, hefting Richie’s arm back around his shoulder.

“Marriage,” Richie says, like Bill doesn’t listen to him at all. He surely mentioned it already.

Bill is silent for a long time, before he takes a deep breath and groans long and loud. Richie doesn’t understand where this is coming from. 

“That’s not an answer, Billy,” Richie informs, stumbling slightly and grabbing onto Bill’s waist with his free arm. 

“I don’t know, Rich, I’m not Eddie,” Bill finally says, sounding even more exasperated than before. Richie is genuinely confused. 

“Okay but, I want to marry him,” Richie says. 

“Alright,” Bill says flatly, rounding the corner to Richie’s apartment. “You should tell him.”

They walk up the steps with much trouble, Richie wanting to stop every five seconds to ask about Eddie again. Bill just wants to go home. They finally make it up the stairs and to Richie’s door, Bill just knocking rather than trying to ask Richie for his keys. 

Eddie opens the door, looking vaguely concerned, but softens when he sees Bill practically carrying Richie. “Was wondering when this one was coming home,” he says, giving Bill an apologetic smile.

“Eddie!” Richie says happily, detaching himself from Bill and hugging Eddie around the waist. “Hi,” he says, smile radiant and a little dopey. 

“Hi,” Eddie responds. He looks back to Bill, the question of _ how much did he drink? _ in his eyes, and Bill’s answering look telling him _ you don’t want to know_. Eddie cringes. 

“Can we get married?” Richie blurts out, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie stands there, hand resting on Richie’s lower back, and- and well, he laughs. He laughs, long and loud, because _ what the fuck_.

“Baby, we got married two years ago,” Eddie says softly, like the news might shock Richie beyond repair. 

“Oh,” Richie responds a little dumbly. “Cool. I like that,” he adds. Bill rolls his eyes, and Eddie shoos him away with a soft _ I got it_. Bill has never looked more thankful in his _ life_. 

Eddie manages to get Richie into bed, have him take medicine, and drink water all in under fifteen minutes. It’s a personal record. 

“You’re really my husband,” Richie says, not asks, like he’s in awe. Eddie is enamored. 

“Sure am,” Eddie says, crawling into bed next to Richie and turning off the bedside lamp. “Sleep,” he says. 

“Mm’kay,” Richie says, already yawning. "Love you, husband," he says, before falling asleep quickly. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. A drunk Richie was always _ a lot _ to deal with, but not so much more than a normal Richie. Eddie loved him, anyway. 


	25. tasty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: richi tries to make pancakes, emphasis on tries., eddie rescue eddie rescue, clear the searches eddie good cook

When Eddie wakes up, it’s distinctly to the smell of burning. 

Burning, smelling distinctly like _ food _ is burning. Richie’s gone from the bed next to him, and that alerts Eddie to one of two things. 

  1. Richie is cooking.
  2. Richie is failing.

He sighs, long and loud, and gets up to go investigate. What he finds is- well, it’s not ideal. He walks in to find Richie with flour in his hair, pancake (or _ maybe _ waffle) batter all over the counter, and perhaps _ three_? burnt… circles on a plate. Eddie sighs again.

“What’s going on?” he asks, standing in the entryway to the kitchen, just watching. 

“Uh,” Richie responds, eyes flicking between the counter and Eddie. He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish. “Pancakes. Maybe?”

“Maybe pancakes,” Eddie repeats, stepping closer. He peers into the bowl, and grimaces. “Pancakes require more ingredients than flour milk and badly mixed egg, Rich.”

“That’s why they’re _ maybe _ pancakes and not _ actual _ pancakes,” Richie says with a pout, staring at the pan in shame. He budges over when Eddie bumps him with his hip, and watches as Eddie gathers ingredients for _ real _ pancakes.

“Please stop trying to cook when I’m sleeping,” Eddie says, voice light. He’s not mad, he really isn’t, but- well. _ Richie really can’t cook. _

“Gotcha,” Richie agrees readily, seemingly content enough with his failure to not try again. 

With the supervision of Eddie, Richie manages to make two (two!) good pancakes, and holds the plate proudly to his chest like he’s an elementary school kid showing off a drawing. It earns him a quick kiss, before Eddie goes back to making more pancakes. 

“You know, these are- these are really fucking good,” Richie says around a mouthful, smiling when Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“It’s the most basic recipe you can do,” Eddie informs him, taking a bite of his own stack. 

  
“Regardless,” Richie responds, content. Sure, he almost burned down the kitchen but- that’s what Eddie was for, right? To make sure he _ didn’t_.


	26. dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: there is a thunderstorm, and then a power outage, and richie loses like half the work on his project, eddie is good person like always

It’s thunderstorming. It’s thunderstorming, and Richie is having a _ very bad time. _

Said very bad time is due to one thing and one thing only: fucking _ film history. _ He’s been editing a video for hours, trying to get everything _ just _ right for this project, and the storm outside is making it very hard to concentrate. He’s been staring at his desktop for the better part of three hours, eyes starting to hurt from the screen. The branches from the tree outside his window won’t stop knocking against the fucking glass and he wants to scream. 

He maybe, maybe _ does _ scream when the power chooses _ that _ moment to go out. He tries to think back to the last time he saved, and comes up with- an hour ago? An hour of progress, down the drain. _ Fantastic_. 

After he’s screamed out all his frustration (which honestly takes longer than he’d like to admit), he does the next logical thing: call Eddie. 

As he waits for the facetime call to connect, spinning around in his chair idly, he has a momentary thought to light a candle. He gets up and stumbles through the dark, moving through his room on muscle memory alone, and curses when he stubs his toe- which is _ precisely _ when Eddie decides to pick up. 

“Richie,” Eddie says simply, screen dark. Well that answers _ one _ question Richie had. “What’s up?”

“I was gonna ask if your power went out, too, but- _ shit_,” he replies, tripping over something else on the way to his dresser. He finally makes it to his dresser (not without bumping into it first, though, cursing when Eddie laughs), and feels around blindly for his lighter. His fingers close around it and he makes a small noise of triumph, lighting the candle as quickly as he can. It’s still dark in the room, but not nearly as much. “So, uh. I got some news.”

“News?” Eddie asks, still in the dark. Richie is grateful he won’t be able to see Eddie’s face when he tells him what just happened.

“So. Hm. The project for film? I maybe lost like, an hour’s worth of work because of this blackout,” he says slowly, staring at the screen of his phone even though it’s completely black. He can only imagine Eddie’s face.

“An _ hour? _ Can you- I don’t know, revert it?” Eddie asks, sounding vaguely miserable. Like this was _ his _ part of his project and not Richie’s.

“I won’t know until the power goes on but I forgot to save so… probably not,” Richie says with a sigh, flopping down on his bed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he says after a beat.

“You didn’t have auto-save on?” Eddie asks again, sounding incredulous. Still not mad, but- shocked. 

Richie whines, burying his face in the pillow and groaning out a, _ I forgot to turn it on! _

  
He hears Eddie sigh over the line, and then a soft _ it’s okay _, before he changes the topic to something else. Sure, Richie might be infinitely stressed about all the work he probably lost, but for now he can just listen to Eddie talk about what’s been going on until the lights come back on.


	27. coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: this might be more jacket than coat but lets roll w it, eddie wears richies jacket, and the high school social implications rock eddie's world

“Is that- is that my _ fucking jacket? _” It’s said like this is a scandal, like this is the most blasphemous thing that has happened all week. 

“Uh,” Eddie looks down, takes in all the pins and patches that are distinctly _ not his _ and looks back up, “I guess?”

“Where _ was _ it?” Richie asks, coming closer. Bev and Richie are standing behind the school, smoking, waiting for the rest of the Losers to show up like they do every morning. Bev is standing back further, watching in amusement. “I’ve been looking for it for _ days_. I even cleaned my _ room, _Eds.”

Eddie blinks up at Richie, looks back down to the jacket that Richie is _ always _ wearing, and wonders how it ended up on him in the first place. “I think you left it on my desk chair and I just… grabbed it this morning? I was in a rush” he says, sounding confused. He really doesn’t know how this happened.

Richie hums, and Eddie goes to take it off, because well- it’s _ Richie’s favorite coat_. Obviously he’d want it back. 

“No,” Richie says quickly, starling Eddie with how fast the word seem to burst out of his mouth. “Keep it on. It’s cold,” he says, and Eddie doesn’t understand why Richie’s face is so red. He shrugs it off, and stands by the fence waiting for everyone else to come before the bell rings. 

The rest of the day goes by slowly, but everyone at school is _ looking _ at him more. He has no idea why, so he says so at lunch.

“Cause you look like Richie’s fuckin boyfriend, dude,” Stan says around a mouthful of food, eyes flicking over to Eddie and then back away. “I mean. That’s his jacket.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, staring at Richie and then Stan. “What the fuck do you _ mean _ boyfriend?” he asks, voice rising in pitch. 

“Dude. Jacket. You see all the girls wearing their boyfriend’s varsity jackets every Friday. You know how this works,” Stan responds calmly, like it’s common sense. 

“That doesn’t mean anything! We could just- this doesn’t have to be _ Richie’s_, it could be mine. And it just- matches,” Eddie says, trailing off at the end. 

“And somehow it got gayer,” Stan mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe what Stan’s saying makes sense,” Richie responds, legs stretched out under the table, tangling with Eddie’s like it’s nothing. Eddie is now hyper aware of how this could look to other people. “It’s not a big deal, Eds.”

“But- _ we’re not dating! _” he practically yells, alerting a few people who are sitting at the other end of the lunch table. He apologizes quickly, and looks back to the rest of them with wide eyes. “We aren’t. The only reason I kept it on is because Richie said to.”

“Yeah, because everyone’s gonna know that,” Bev pipes up, staring at them smugly. Like she knows something Eddie doesn’t. 

Eddie sputters, taking off the jacket and throwing it across the table to Richie. “Take it. Take it now,” he says hurriedly. 

Richie rolls his eyes but takes it back regardless, mumbling a quick _ don’t complain when you’re cold, then _ and getting up when the bell rings. Eddie doesn’t see Richie for the rest of the day.

(Later, when they’re hanging out on Richie’s bed, Eddie doing homework, Richie asks a question.

“Would it be so bad?” 

“Would what be so bad,” Eddie responds without looking up, erasing something furiously. He’s frustrated and hates math.

Richie sits up, peeking over at Eddie’s workbook, and sighs. “Us. Dating,” he says, gently grabbing the book from Eddie and scribbling out the answer to the problem and showing his work even though Eddie knows he did it in his head, so Eddie can duplicate it later. 

Eddie sputters, face going red, and says, “I- Have you lost your _ mind? _”

“Maybe. Answer the question, Eds.”

“I mean. I guess… not?” Eddie responds, heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“So lets date, then,” Richie says, scribbling out another problem. Eddie can tell he’s nervous.

“Alright,” Eddie says slowly, like he thinks this is maybe one big joke. It has to be. 

The smile Richie gives him is megawatt. Maybe it’s not a joke.)


	28. ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: road trip!, i be writing road trip au so im in a mood..., pretend its not november and im posting the last 4 thank you, richie talks about his FEELINGS

“Can you just- ride shotgun, and not yell at me every four seconds?” Richie says, hands gripped knuckle white on the steering wheel. He has no idea where they fucking are, but there’s corn everywhere, so. At least if the car breaks down they’ll have food to eat? “You’re worse than my _ mom_.”

“Do _ not _ compare me to your mother right now, asshole,” Eddie responds, sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat, acting like, for all intents and purposes, they’re about to die. “You drive like shit, and if I didn’t have to sleep, I would still be driving.”

“So fucking sleep! At least if we get in a car crash, your body will be all loose so you won’t get as many injuries!” Richie exclaims, one hand flying out to illustrate his point. He huffs in annoyance when Eddie puts it back on the steering wheel. 

“That is _ so _ fucking morbid, Richie, what the _ fuck_?” 

“I don’t know! I heard it once. Just go to sleep and I _ swear _ we will get there safely,” Richie responds, practically begging at this point. This entire road trip has been nothing short of _ stressful _ every single time it was Richie’s turn to drive (Eddie didn’t trust his driving skills, even if they were just going straight on a highway with no one fucking on it in the middle of the country). 

And with that, Eddie falls asleep (not without another minute of threats, though), and Richie is given complete and utter silence for the next two hours. It gives him time to think, to mull over things he’s been thinking about lately, things that have been bothering him.

Namely- Eddie. Eddie, and Richie’s feelings for him, and what it means when his heart starts racing every time Eddie smiles or laughs or does something simple like accidentally brush their arms together while walking. Eddie, and the way he always takes care of Richie, even if he does it automatically at this point in their lives, even if he yells at him while doing it. 

Really, Richie should tell him. Tell him everything, how he feels, even if he’s not sure what it really means. Because- because there’s never been a day in his life where he _ hasn’t _ told Eddie something, because Eddie just _ knows _ when he’s hiding things. So really, Richie should tell him.

But, does that change the fact that every time he tries to say something, Eddie will change the topic by chance, or his heart will get lodged in his throat, or his palms will start to sweat and he’ll have to wipe them on his pants? No, it doesn’t. Does this mean Eddie doesn’t _ deserve _to know? Also no. 

It’s in those two hours of silence when Richie decides to tell him. Maybe telling him on a road trip, when they have another day and a half of riding in this car together is not the smartest decision, especially when Richie has absolutely no idea how it will go.

Maybe it’s not the smartest decision, but Richie is nothing but a risk taker (even if it does land him in some pretty stupid situations, sometimes). 

So, when Eddie wakes up, maybe he’ll say something. 

He just hopes it’s worth it.


	29. injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: so, ive taken canon into consideration, and completely fucking ignored it, THIS IS longer than i meant for it to be, but eddie lives!!!!!!!!!! AND WE'RE HAPPY., sorry i had to make yal relive eddie getting impaled tho.

Really, when Richie comes out of the deadlights, he’s not expecting Eddie to be _ on top of him._ He’s disoriented and has a migraine, but _ Eddie Kaspbrak is on top of him? _

It’s a little like every fantasy he’s ever had, except more dark and _ absolutely _ less sexy. It doesn’t stop his mind from running with it though, and he’s just about to make a joke but-

_ But_, Eddie’s talking to him, wearing this happy smile and Richie kinda gets lost in it. He’s almost glad for the whole _ stuck in the deadlights _ thing, because if anyone asks why he just _ laid _there instead of saying anything, well. He has an excuse everyone will believe. 

So, here’s Richie Tozier, lost in Eddie Kaspbrak’s smile like he’s 14 again, having a great time right up until _ It _ decides to recover from whatever the fuck Eddie did, and absolutely ruin Richie’s day. Ruin Richie’s day in the sense that Eddie pretty much gets his insides scrambled by some- _ thing_. Richie thinks he screams, maybe, but he wouldn’t be able to tell you for sure. 

The rest of the time goes by in a blur, defeating _ It_, blah blah _ blah._ Richie wishes he could focus, really, but he can’t get his fucking mind off of Eddie, who’s sitting against a rock just trying not to _ die. _ Every second they spend doing _ this _ is a second closer to Eddie _ not being okay _ and that is something Richie genuinely cannot begin to think about. 

By some fucking miracle, they manage to get out of the sewer, out of Neibolt, out onto the street _ with Eddie alive, _ and get him to a hospital. Richie might be shaking, just a little. He’s covered in blood, and truthfully, it’s not as sexy as people make it out to be. It’s _ sticky _ and _ gross. _ He cleans up the best he can in the waiting room bathroom, they all do, but the low simmering anxiety in his stomach won’t go away no matter how much of Eddie’s blood he manages to clean off. 

His brain just keeps looping the _ what if’s _ and the _ could have been’s _ and the possibilities of things going just- _ wrong_. The doctor that comes out hours later tells them all Eddie could or _ could not _ make it, and Richie almost loses it. _ Almost _ (in reality, he does lose it, just not in the hospital- he does later, much later when Beverly forces him to go back to the inn for a while and get sleep, when he’s alone with nothing but the creaking of the old ass building and his own racing thoughts thinking about losing the only person he’s ever loved _ this much _). The doctor says they’ll know if he has a good chance of making it if he can remain stable for 24 hours. 

_24\. _Richie waits. 

And waits, and waits, and waits. He waits until it’s been 23 hours and 59 minutes, then stressfully asks the doctor for the fifth time in two hours if they know anything. She sighs, but tells him it looks like a better outlook than it did 24 hours ago, tells him there’s a good chance Eddie will recover well if he wakes up. 

And there’s the word Richie hates. _If._ _If_ Eddie wakes up. Because the truth is, they don’t know. _Yes,_ he went 24 hours with being stable, but he went through a major surgery, and well. He’s certainly not _twenty _anymore, and certainly doesn’t heal as fast as he used to. So, _if._

Richie waits some more. 

The rest of them come and go, coming to check on Richie more than Eddie at this point, coming to watch Richie slowly but surely descent into a constant state of _ distress. _ They all know by now, how Richie feels for Eddie, they _ have _ to. It has to be written on Richie’s face clear as day, in the way he won’t stop holding Eddie’s hand for even a second, in the way he never stops _ talking _to Eddie like he can hear Richie. 

Richie, honestly, truly, does not know how many days it’s been, what day it is, and the _ only _ reason he knows what _ time _ it happens to be is because of the wall clock across from where he’s sitting next to Eddie’s bed. He doesn’t know what day it is, but he does know that he’s fallen asleep in a hospital chair more than he ever has in his life. 

So, he doesn’t know what day it is when Eddie’s eyes slowly open, when he looks around the room carefully, when his eyes finally land on Richie and he squints like he’s royally _ confused. _

“The fuck-” is the first thing out of his mouth, scratchy and uncoordinated after not talking for so long, but to Richie it’s like _ music. _ “happened?” he finishes, still staring at Richie. He goes to move, and Richie has never moved so fast to stop someone in his life.

“Don’t- do that,” Richie says gently, hesitantly, one hand resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He takes a minute to just- _ look, _ just to make sure this is real and not some weird sleep deprived hallucination. “You-” Richie starts, licking his lips and looking at a spot behind Eddie’s head, wondering what he can even say to explain this past week. “_It _ got you,” he settles on, sitting back down when Eddie doesn’t look like he’s going to try and move again. 

“You look like shit,” is what Eddie says in response, still squinting at Richie like he’s trying to figure something out. 

And- and Richie doesn’t know what else to do but _ laugh. _ Because- because he _ does _ look like shit, he knows he does. He has dark circles under his eyes, his shave job is messy at best, absolutely atrocious in reality, and he seems to have a permanent crick in his neck from sitting sleeping up for days on end. He can’t stop laughing, and he doesn’t realize he’s fucking _ crying _ until he has his face buried in his hands and physically _ feels _the tears slipping out behind his glasses.

“Rich,” Eddie says, vaguely panicked. He tries to move again, Richie can hear the ruffle of the sheet, and he hisses when it obviously fucking _ hurts. _ Richie cries harder, takes off his glasses. “C’mon, hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m _ okay_,” he continues, trying to be placating. 

“You- _ fuck, _ Eddie,” Richie manages to get out through sobs, taking shuddering breaths. “You’re _ so not okay_,” he says, finally looking up. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and stop crying, and lets out a small, miserable laugh when Eddie reprimands him, saying he’ll hurt himself. He manages to reign it back in, stop sobbing, manages to reduce it to a few stray tears. 

“I’m alive,” Eddie says softly, reaching out for one of Richie’s hands. Richie gives it to him readily. “I’m alive, see?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Richie says without heat, sniffling. _ God_, he’s a mess. 

“I heard you, you know,” Eddie says after a minute, ignoring Richie completely. “When I was out. I heard you talking to me,” he clarifies. There’s something gentle in his gaze, and Richie’s heart pounds. He has to look away. 

And really, Richie talked _ a lot _ while Eddie was out of it. Talked about any and everything- basically recounted the past _ 27 years _ from front to back just so it wouldn’t be so fucking _ quiet _ in the room, the only sound being the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor. But Richie _ knows _ what Eddie means when he says _ I heard you talking to me, _ and his heart is in his throat. 

Because, while he practically told Eddie every detail from the past 27 years, he also went as far back as being _ 14 _ and _ in love with Eddie, _ how even though he forgot once he left Derry, as soon as he came back so did his _ feelings. _ How they didn’t fade, even after _ It _ was gone and they stopped remembering, how he didn’t know what to _ do _ about it. And _ that’s _ what Eddie’s talking about, why he has to be looking at Richie so soft and fucking tender.

Richie laughs, an anxious one this time, and looks everywhere _ but _ at Eddie. The wallpaper sure is fucking ugly in this hospital, he thinks. 

“Richie,” Eddie says, softly and kindly. 

“What’s up, Eds?” Richie says, full of false bravado and underlying anxiety because Eddie is doing this to torture him, he knows it. They’re still fucking holding hands, which is ridiculous. Richie’s palm is sweating, he’s sure of it. 

“Can you just come over here so I can fucking kiss you? I’d come over there but I’m pretty sure I’d pop several stitches,” Eddie says, full of fond exasperation. Richie short circuits. 

“Huh?” Richie says, eyes immediately snapping back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lying in a fucking hospital bed where he’s been for God knows however long recovering from getting almost _ killed_, and staring at him like he’s just _ waiting for Richie to kiss him like he asked. _ He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up in amusement at Richie’s confusion, and just _ waits. _

Richie doesn’t know what kicks him into gear- maybe it’s the thought of being able to kiss the person he’s been in love with for _ probably _ his entire life, or maybe it’s the look on Eddie’s face, but he’s standing up and leaning over Eddie in the next minute. He hesitates though, because _ fuck, _ it’s _ Eddie_, and he can’t fuck this up. _ He can’t_. 

Really, it’s Eddie who moves in the end, because Richie is just fucking _ standing there _ like a dumbass. His hand reaches up, wraps around the back of Richie’s neck, pulls him down, and then they’re _ kissing _ and it’s everything Richie’s fucking wanted since he was a teenager. _ Better _ than everything he’s wanted, because it’s _ real _ and _ actually happening_. 

“Oh fuck,” is the only thing he says when they separate, blinking hard. He’s not entirely sure this is actually real, the more he thinks about it.

But it _ is_, because Eddie laughs then, soft and sweet but gentle so it doesn’t disrupt his stomach too much and hurt him, and Richie can’t imagine something so fucking _ lovely. _ God, Richie’s in _ love. _

In the end, Eddie has to send him away forcefully (as forceful as someone lying in a hospital bed can be when they can’t _ move_), because he insists Richie needs a _ bed _ and a _ proper shower _ and well, he’s right. So Richie goes without _ much _ fuss, happy as can be, lips tingling and heart still racing (but in a good way- in the _ best way _ this time. He feels a little like a teenager again). 

Sure, Eddie might have a lot of healing left to do, but at least he’s _ okay_. He’s _ alive _ and _ loves Richie back_. Really, it’s all Richie could’ve asked for after coming back to this shitty town and having to defeat a demon ass clown. 

  
Eddie Kaspbrak loves Richie Tozier back, and it’s _ perfect. _


End file.
